Matchsticks Made of Straw
by Backroads
Summary: A miller's daughter who pretends to spin straw into gold. Her brother who sort of really does. A grumpy palace guard who's onto the whole thing. Rumplestiltskin has never caused so much trouble.
1. Prologue: A King With Gold

**PROLOGUE**

The King felt a touch of pity as he declared the conditions. How could he not? He was a good ruler to his people, and his heart was not made of stone. There was something about the young woman that made him almost take back the test. Almost.

He had said all of that mess about beheading the girl as a means of frightening her. No, as a means of making sure this talker of a miller told the truth. He had no intentions of actually killing the poor thing. But a king had to be powerful.

And yet she was there, somehow defiant and humble in the same breath, chin up, blue eyes flashing at no one in particular. The wall, perhaps? She did not protest, but neither did she say that yes, spinning straw into gold was her talent.

But that was to be expected from a redhead. The King had known his share of them and their fiery ways. This one, at least, possessed the faintest aura of timidity, a dutiful daughter nonetheless.

The King only saw a single tear fall down her freckled cheek as she was led to the dungeon.

But she would spin, and he would wait. There would be gold in the morning.

And there was.

The King went down then, to the dungeon, not quite expecting what there would be. Straw? Gold? But indeed it was gold, silky and fine as thread, purest gold. And there was the girl, relaxed and refreshed as if she had slept the whole night rather than spin.

The King wanted more gold. This wasn't enough. Clearly there was no harm in having her work another night. There would be rewards. He ordered breakfast for her and her father, singers and jesters to amuse them, a day touring the palace. A pretty dress for her to wear. For she was a lovely girl.

The gold was transported to its own chamber.

But that night, the girl did not seem so willing to spin again. A little drop of defiance and fire was gone, and she asked the King if it were really so necessary. Of course it was. She wouldn't mind. After all, she had a new dress to replace her rags.

How could a father with a daughter who spun gold dress so poorly? Humility, proper for the common folk. No doubt that was the answer.

So he ordered her back to the dungeon with the order to spin ten times what she spun the night before–on the threat of death.

Though of course he wasn't cruel enough to kill her. But times were hard for the kingdom. And the King.

The next morning he returned to the dungeon. There was the girl, stretching lazily, surrounded by piles and piles of gold.

It was taken to the chamber.

She would do it again, the King decided. Once more. One more night to spin even more gold. That would be enough.

And, as a reward, she would be his bride. For she was beautiful and good, he could tell. It was a surprise she was not already married, for she was no longer a child but in her early twenties, slightly past the time when most girls were already married with children. But she wasn't too old, and neither was the King. Her age was just about right. And she was beautiful.

Wouldn't she like to live in a palace? Be the Queen of so many? Dress in silk and diamonds? Be the mother of princes?

She nodded. Yes, that sounded like a wonderful dream to her.

Well, it wouldn't be a dream, not if she spun gold once more. Would she, the Miller's Daughter, do this?

She bit her lip and shed several more tears. The King seemed good to her, but must she spin once more?

Of course she did.

And the next morning, she was there, sleeping over her spinning wheel, half-buried in a sea of gold that once had been straw.

A miracle! Amazing! Incredible! The talent of such a girl! Was there no better choice for Queen?

The King hugged and kissed her and proposed marriage right there, which she dizzily accepted, blushing with happiness. Never more would she have to spin again! Maybe.

They told the miller, who wept with joy.

The gold was taken to join its own chamber.

Then the King led the girl to one of his treasuries, filled to the brim with all sorts of jewels, silver, and gold. She must pick something for their wedding, which would be held at sunrise the next morning. She would come out to see him when she had finished. She might have anything she wanted.

Then he went, giddy with greed, to tell all his courtiers of his fortune. Gold, gold, gold. And a beautiful girl as his Queen. He would be so rich!

The girl never came out. Hours passed.

She had to be enjoying the jewels, but this was ridiculous.

He waited a little longer. Nothing.

He sent a servant to fetch her.

The servant returned. The girl was gone. And... and...

Shocked, the King ran to see for himself. The girl was gone, the marvelous girl that spun straw into gold.

And so was half the treasury.

He ordered the palace and the grounds to be searched. But she was gone. And so was her father.

Mind a whirl, he sought comfort. The gold the girl had spun. Locked away in its very own chamber. He opened the door, and for one precious moment his eyes rested on the gold.

Then watched in horror as it faded away into nothing.


	2. An Honest Family

"I love the way rubies catch the light!" Lake Miller held up the tear-shaped earrings, rimmed with gold, and only wished she had managed to find a proper mirror in that mess of a treasury. But one could only demand so much from a victim before inproprietiy and sheer stupidity rang. "We haven't found rubies for ages."

A sigh came from the front of the cart. "You look terrible in rubies."

"Shows how little taste you have." Lake set one earring in her lap and began to thread the hook of the other through her earlobe, ignoring how her father across from her turned away in disgust. He had been most displeased when she had returned from that Gypsy camp with baubles dangling at the side of her face. Looked like a regular street girl, desperate for business. She didn't care. She liked the jewelry, and she liked these rubies.

Her father sighed again and spent a moment staring blankly down the road. Little there, just an ignored highway littered between the farms from the last kingdom to the next... wherever. The cave would be the next stop. That had been something, robbing a real king. For the last little while it had been nothing but dukes and nobles; they admittedly had their property glistening with arrogance, but the fact remained it was usually the monarchy that stashed the most good. Nobles might spend, but kings hoarded, and it was something William Miller was teaching his children well. Kings also had the most guards. This last one had sent them scurrying all over, but who would dare bother simple peasants on a minor business venture? It was a guise that had worked too many times to count, and it wasn't his fault no one thought or expected much of the common folk. Fools. Fools to be thanked. Loveable fools that would never stop them.

That is, until Lake decided to fancy herself.

"Put those away, girl," William muttered. There wasn't a soul around, but he hated to take chances. Lady Fortune may like him, but she was a woman of adventure.

She hooked up the other earring and gave her best pout. "But Papa, don't you think I look pretty?"

"You never look pretty." Words from the front of the car accompanied by a laugh.

Lake tore off the earrings, popped them under the canvas, and launched herself over the seat to the driver's spot. "How about I ram them down your throat, Jay?"

"Because you didn't bring them." The young man laughed as he suffered his sister's blows, back curled over like a turtle seeking shelter. The mule swung to the right, and William had to fight for his balance. "Lake! Off Jaybird!"

"But Papa–" The whine came only once. With a smile showing that nothing had gone wrong she hopped back to her seat. "You should allow us a little fun, Papa."

"Wearing the King's jewels and creating a murder scene large enough to attract every guard in the vicinity?" William raised a thick eyebrow. He was approaching his sixtieth year, but rather his face had taken on a stony brook texture, overly chiseled rather than lined. Handsome, women still called him. At least he still had his hair, thick and black as a bear's coat. Bluejaybird had managed to inherit that, though no doubt the boy would always be handsome regardless.

His mother's folk were like that.

Lake turned her attention to the road as well. Not a single cart around. Hardly a sign of civilization–other than the blatant farms and smoke spiraling up from someplace several miles in the distance. They still had time. "Papa, that was yesterday morning. We're long gone."

"Don't be too sure, pet. Remember the time Jaybird was arrested?"

"That was fun," Jay commented after cursing at the mule. "Listening to the guards go on and on and on about what a horrible, hell-and-gallows-bound soul I was and nothing much beyond that. It truly brought tears to my eyes. I was a changed man after that."

Lake and William stared at him.

"Till the next heist, of course," said Lake. She grabbed a strand of red hair and began to braid.

"Of course," replied Jay. "But oh, did I feel some stirrings in my spirit that night! Though I highly doubt God was too concerned with all of that."

"Idiot," Lake murmured.

"Yes, idiot indeed," William continued. "To have been caught, to put your darling little sister in danger–"

Lake tried to look as darling as possible. A simple task.

"–and to frighten those poor guards the next morning when I was no longer there!" Jay finished.

"Jaybird–"

"One moment, Papa. I believe we have seen our first sight of humanity."

"I saw the village first," said Lake in disgust. "Roads back. Plenty of smoke. Catch the entire hellhole on fire."

Past the bend the road were four young peasant girls leading a herd of goats into a pasture. Common in these parts, for girls to spend up to a week at a time living in the pastures beyond a village. Lake shook her head. Pathetic. No doubt they'd expect to invite Jay to their hut nearby. She had grown up with village girls, she knew how they were. They turned at the sound of the approaching cart, spotted Jay, and let their barely-sewn necklines fall with the proper shrug of the shoulders.

Jay and William tipped their hats.

"Hello, ladies," Jay said. With a barely noticeable twist of his hand, he slowed the mule to a stop.

They all giggled, Lake noticed. Not just one or two or even three. All of them. Lake felt sick. Even her father looked sick. Jay could be so ridiculous. Though clearly not as ridiculous as these girls.

Well, she honestly couldn't blame them, if she put her mind to it. She herself had simpered for a good-looking boy before, and she could also admit that her brother was as good-looking as they came. Maybe not the most dashing and beautiful thing around, but quite handsome. Ridiculously tall, well-muscled from a life, browned from the outdoors. Black hair and those pale brown, almost golden, eyes. It was usually those eyes that hooked the girls. And Jay, unfortunately, knew it.

Good thing he became horrendously shy if it went beyond harmless flirting.

"You are all such hard workers," Jay said, pretending to examining the goats even though everyone one knew he was doing no such thing. "Your fathers must be so proud."

William nodded. "Dutiful daughters, indeed."

They even blushed when her father spoke. Lake returned to fiddling with her hair. These girls couldn't be any older than fourteen or fifteen. And Jay was what? Twenty-five years now? Yes, pathetic indeed. Oh, well.

One, the shortest of the bunch, stepped forward with a provocative curtsey. "We try, good sir. We try. We care for these goats so much."

Jay gave a gentle laugh. "Well, then. Perhaps I should see... these goats." He hopped from the cart, much to the clear delight of the goat girls.

"Oh, brother," Lake whispered. Though she couldn't help but be rather amused. Jay was up to something. Though what these children had to offer, she didn't know.

Too bad there weren't some boys around. She had her own charms.

William silenced her with a finger to his lips, but the girls had already spotted her.

"Don't worry, girls, I'm his sister," Lake said dryly. "Irma."

The girls couldn't have cared less what her name was. "Your name, good sir?" said the short one.

Jay bowed low. "Thomas, my lady. Thomas Blue." A wonderful use of the first part of his name.

They all giggled again. Jay had such a way with them.

"Now, of course, I insist you tell me your names."

"Acreida," replied the short one. The others introduced themselves as Martina, Elatine, and Catherine. Not that Lake cared.

Jay sighed as if poetry had just been recited and kissed Acreida on the hand. "Lovely names, each one lovelier than the last. And to reward them..." He pretended to search his pockets while the girls silently fought over who was "last." "I have a gift."

In his hands were several small lumps of gold.

Four pairs of eyes lit up like torches.

Jay slid his arm around Elatine's waist; she nearly fainted from delight. "I want you all to have a piece." He pressed one lump into Elatine's hand, and her companions fought for the rest.

It was only with great care and many kisses blown that Jay was able to return to the cart and drive on, leaving a dizzy bevy of girls watching (and still giggling) after him.

William shook his head, unable to keep a laugh back. "Won't they be surprised soon?"

"An hour, Papa," said Jay. "That's all that gold will last. But this..." He pulled out a small leather bag and jingled it. "It's enough to buy a few rounds of ale at a tavern."

"You wicked boy. You are no son of mine."

"You taught me, Papa."

Lake stood up and snatched it from him. The rocking of the cart was nothing to her. "You stole it from the village whore Elatine?"

"Acreida, actually."

"I love you, Jay. Though I believe I got us more yesterday."

"But it was just my handsome face that retrieved this."

"And the King didn't think I was pretty?"

No matter, that was the routine, and Lake knew that well enough. William had been sure, for the past nine years, that both Jaybird and Lake knew their roles. Years before that, from the day Jay's tricks connected themselves with Mary's spinning wheel, they had not known what to do.

Mary. Mary would have pretended to disprove of all of this. A honest milling family, that's what they were. 'Course, once taxes had come and the mill shut down... life had to continue, and now they could stop right now and live comfortably to the end of their days, if they were smart about it.

But it was more than that. William craved this, and so did his children. A few steps in the darkness, a few words twisted beyond honesty, a slight of the hand and a trick from Jaybird. It was the journey, it was the dare. An honest life had never been for them. Probably came from their names. Neither of their mothers had been ones for the proper and common. Nature is what they liked. The outdoors. The real earth, the fairy woman who had borne Bluejaybird had called it. Then after she had left and he had met Mary, this new wife had been just as enchanted. Thieves, all of them. It was the way.

So they all knew the routine: He spread the rumor, Lake acted her part, and Jaybird spun the fairy gold.


	3. Timber

A healthy week of wandering between village and bareland was all it took to clear the final boundaries of the last kingdom. It wasn't that the petty kings in that corner of the world claimed much, but raw power and a strong dose of ego provided a stretch of influence that could reach through anything. It was a concept Jay had never understood and never planned on understanding. But a week, yes, seven days could outrun anything. Besides the practicality and the allure, it was smart thinking that had led the Millers to keep their treasure cave in the middle of nowhere, seven days' travel from anything. Jay had originally found the cave, years before, after a particularly large heist–at least, for that time in their life, before they started conning kings and nobles.

The cave was only that by the loosest of definitions, a shrouded hollow in a grey moraine settled in a bare spot just beyond the Giant Forest. Few people of importance wandered that way, and the hunters and woodsmen were corrupt enough themselves that they couldn't care less about the business of anyone but themselves. Besides, the rocks were often considered dangerous, and it was only with much skill that the Millers could transport anything there. But as years went by, skill became habit, and habit was, as everyone knows, something that lends itself to ease.

Not that Lake enjoyed the hard labor. Well, she pretended not to. Lake was not a lazy girl by any means, Jay knew well enough, but she could put up the facade. Jay didn't mind. She was a woman and therefore weaker, and it was no fault of her own she couldn't haul much in a single trip as he or their father could. Then Lake could sit and whine that she had injured herself until another trinket caught her eye and begged her to come help. All in all, it only took an hour before the cart was empty save for enough gold to furnish another life for another lie.

And that was it. The gold, the real gold, was deposited, and they were off. The creaking cart wheels would turn with typical poverty, and Lake could wear her silly ruby earrings, provided her hair was kept down to cover them. Another tiny kingdom lay to the northwest. Jay drove the cart, occasionally throwing out another spectre to tease the mule.

* * *

It was Jay's turn to pick the village, and within a week and a half he had found it. A farming community by the way of Wheat Hill. Not the most creative name by any means, but as Jay guided the cart, Lake yawning in the back, to the main road that was more of a path of dust through randomly situated houses and farms (of course growing mainly wheat), a child about nine years old skirted into the path of the mule.

Jay threw out a hand on the reins and a curse word that shocked every other child watching the incident. The mule balked and leaped back and to the side. Lake gave a scream and practically leaped from the cart. One wheel slid and almost turned the entire cart over. Jay hopped to the ground, pushed the stupid beast of a mule back, and examined the boy.

Wonderful, he thought. One wrong move. One idiot child dead. In many towns that was enough to summon authority. One more night in jail. He was really not in the mood.

The child howled with increasing noise, something akin to the mule's screech and a sound of horror all his own. He was a blond scrap of bones, probably pale in the winter and red now to a fierce sun. His trousers were shredded on one leg and covered in mud on the other; it was difficult to see just which appendage was oozing blood.

"Is his mother about?" William muttered somewhere above Jay. "For the devil's needed sake, what'd you think you were doing, boy?"

"Driving a cart," Lake chimed in. She dropped down next to Jay and the boy. "Good going, brother. You killed him."

The boy puckered up his face, nodded, and prepared for another ear-splitting wail.

Damn. "Stick out your leg, kid," Jay ordered. "The hurt one."

With a stony glare, the boy obeyed. Slowly, the trouser-shredded knee bent out. Jay immediately tore at the cloth.

Lake gave a low moan.

"That man ripped Timber's leg open, Mama!" a little girl shouted from the side. Jay didn't want to look up. He already knew that every soul of the few children who had been around had summoned every other villager. Probably the only excitement these people had. Probably threw their offspring into the path of every stranger.

He was no healer, it was not a gift he had inherited. But for the worth of what an eye could see the leg looked bad. Lots of scrapes. Yes, scrapes were bad, weren't they? And blood. Blood was not a good thing.

The boy, Timber, was crying at an entirely new level of loud.

"Poor baby," Lake cooed. She nestled closer to Timber and slid her arms around his body so that he nestled just against his neck. "Does it hurt much."

The stupid kid nodded again.

"Really, Jay, you ought to be more careful," she said tactlessly. "The boy will be an absolute cripple from this day forward."

Every onlooker gasped.

"Quiet, you." He ripped a clean edge from his jacket, spit on it, and rubbed it against Timber's leg. What a mess this was becoming. If this leg were broken.

"But I don't want to be a cripple!" Timber whispered.

"That's Rina Wood's boy, too." An old man had made his way over, looking more amused than angry at the whole situation. Amusement was probably worse, Jay knew. "She relies on that boy for everything. Widow, you know. Cripple will be useless to her. Looks like you're out on the street, Timber."

The screaming immediately stopped. "But... Mama wouldn't do that to me!"

There really was a lot of blood here. It just kept oozing out. Jay looked to Lake for help. She only smiled.

"Timber, child," she said to the boy instead. "You're not going to be a cripple."

But all that blood and the cart and all these people staring... Jay gasped for breath. This could not be happening to him.

He had just killed a kid. A kid that had refused to shut his grubby little mouth until five seconds ago. He had just killed him with a cart and a mule. Well, he had to try something. How did the fairies do this sort of thing? He placed his hands directly on the leg. Strange. It didn't feel...

"It's not broken, idiot," Lake finally said.

Jay stared at the leg. No, it didn't look broken at all. Just... bloody.

William chuckled and leaned against the cart. "Pity to that boy, but I'm sure the leg is fine."

Jay glanced up in time to see the entire group of a dozen people lose interest in Timber and focus on the new strangers. He was more familiar with this.

Lake gave Timber's shoulders another squeeze. "Come on, child. Up. Try that leg out and then we will go some place and give it a proper cleaning."

Timber nodded again and struggled to his face. He grimaced, but clearly was perfectly capable of walking on the leg. Two children clustered him around him, shouting about various places to wash off the blood.

"There's a healer woman in town," said the old man. "I'm sure Rina's boy will wander over their eventually. I'm Tevor Fisher. Welcome to Wheat Hill." He extended a hand to William.

Looked fairly close to every other village.

William shook Tevor's hand. "Glad to be here."

"You folks just passing through or...?"

"Staying," Jay heard himself say.

William shot him an inquiring glance.

Jay shrugged. Running over a boy... it had to be some sort of sign. At least by all obligation they should stay until the boy looked better.

"Staying," William repeated, still shaking Tevor's hand. "That is, if you here could use a miller."

Tevor nodded, still shaking. "As a matter of fact, that'd be a fine thing for Wheat Hill. Ol' Robert still claims he can work the mill up by the river, but the truth is that he's old and weak and his mind just isn't with him anymore. You shouldn't have any trouble moving him out."

Convenient, Jay thought.

"You'll find yourself in good business," Tevor continued without any apparent sign of letting of William's hand anytime soon. "King Cherdith holds his palace only a few miles from here and doesn't mind sending out for good flour. That is, if you're talented."

William could still drum up the old milling skills when they were needed.

Jay caught Lake's eye, and they exchanged a smile. So running over Timber had been a sign. This town would be perfect for Move One.

"I'd like you to meet my children, then," William said. "My son, Bluejaybird. We call him Jaybird or just Jay. And this is my beautiful daughter Lake."

Lake lowered her eyes discreetly and modestly.

"Lovely children, lovely," Tevor agreed. "Five of my own. Only two remaining here. My daughter Linda, though... she can take you up to Robert's mill. There's a cottage there. She's a smart gal and knows just about everything here. Makes it her business to know."

William laughed. "The talents of children. Amazing how they grow. Jaybird here, he can do anything outdoors. Chop wood, hunt, build, you name it. And my Lake... you'll never see anyone more deft with a spinning wheel."

That was another rule. Rumors would always build themselves, given the right nudges.

They moved into the miller's cottage that day. It was quite easy to shoo Robert away. Tevor's daughter Linda sent him on a quest.


	4. Rumors

It wasn't as if it were a hard thing to spread rumors. Over time, William had become a master at it. It also helped that he had never been one much for complete honesty. There was an addiction in telling the basic truth with just enough twist to tempt the imagination of those who desired something a bit more interesting. If people wanted a good story, they would make for themselves a good story, no matter what it took.

It usually took time, and that was fine. William needed time to establish himself as the new miller.

The mill Linda had taken him to was a fine old place, simple but of high quality. Much like the one he had owned before the king had forced him out of that sort of business. And Wheat Hill was a good place, small, just the sort of people that needed an adventure.

Rina Wood, the widow, ran the small tavern that didn't account to much more than a long table and the tools to make the right sort of ale that did prove tasty. William had never been much of a drinker, but the townsmen liked the place and whatever people liked was usually the place to spread half-truths.

Besides, Lake and Jaybird were getting along fine. Jaybird was instantly a hit with the local girls–not that he did much of anything, but he knew when to go to chop wood. Jaybird knew how to coax the trees into letting themselves go, but the truth was that a little hard labor is what the girls liked to see, so Jaybird happily gave it to them. He flirted and he taunted, and the girls squealed with delight. He did their errands and they brought him fresh bread they had made or berries they had picked.

William always smiled to see that go on. Heaven forbid if the boy ever got truly close to a girl.

Lake would have proven just as much a flirt if the town had offered a sizing of men around her age. But the gap wasn't allowed. The boys were either too young or too old, though Rina's boy Timber had taken a fancy to her. His leg had healed fine in several days, so he made it his business to follow the "angel lady" around.

William thought the boy was a pest, and so did his mother, but Lake thought he was simply adorable.

Beyond that, Lake made sure to bring up as often as possible how much she loved to spin. The townsfolk would either think her odd or dutiful, and thankfully most decided more on the latter and less on the former. And, every once in a while, she would put the word "gold" in close proximity of "spin."

Linda hadn't meant for it to go so far. Lake had come to her home to assist in grinding wheat. Lake had gone on and on about her spinning, how much she had done that morning. Then her brother had barged in, complaining that the girl had scattered straw from her mattress everywhere and that she would do well to pick it up soon. After that an argument had ensued between the siblings, him yelling about the straw and she calling her a golden-eyed freak.

She laughed about the incident to Rina, who then told it to her customers. It wasn't her fault that old Robert had wandered back into Wheat Hill. But if he were back, he had better pay his tab! He owed her money! He said something about seeking a treasure of gold.

William wasn't able to follow how the story had reached the city, but it happened. Several weeks of good, honest milling... was that really so much that the King's advisor had to meet with him? And that he was also to bring his lovely daughter with him?

Well, it happened with every place they came to, eventually.


	5. The Palace

"She's quite the girl, you know." Adam Smith plopped down his tankard, the usual signal for Rina to pour more.

Rina shook her head and made her way over, using her already grey skirt to mop up an earlier spill from the counter. She was a slender woman, though forty years of life and a job in a tavern had toughened her up to a fearsome countenance. Many still called her lovely, though her dark curls were already showing grey. She grabbed the pitcher and dumped more of her best ale. "And which girl do you mean by that, Adam? Is it something I should speak to your wife about?"

Adam laughed and shook his head. Rina smiled. The man was as honest and decent as Old Robert was crazy, but that made it all the more fun to tease him.

"Rina, I have a beautiful wife and two handsome sons, even though the brats are on the small side. But if I had a younger brother, I'd plan a marriage between him and the miller's daughter."

"Lake?" Rina's smile grew. "Aye, she's a fine girl indeed. Beautiful and good, though I sense something of a spitfire behind it all."

"Rina, the entire town knows you are the greatest spitfire of them all."

She took the compliment well. "And that's why I admire Lake Miller so much. Such a helper. Spinning all morning for her father–"

"And a good assistant to my Linda." Adam raised his glass.

"Devil in disguise, though, mark my words!" The cracking screech filled the air as Bethany the healer woman wandered her way in, gnarled walking sticks smacking the ground in front of her.

Rina tossed her head back and laughed. "But that's the best part of her charm, Witch Woman!"

Bethany growled deep in her throat, the way of an animal, and smacked her stick once more. "I would not say Witch as a mockery!"

"But that's what you are, Bethany!" Timber had made his way in, carrying dishes to the best of his ability.

"And I have the ability to see into the future, young Timber!" She pointed a wrinkled finger at her left eye. Timber gasped and stepped back in ultimate reverence.

Rina could never be sure if the woman was in jest or not. But if she frightened that boy, well, that was good enough for Rina. "And I imagine you can see Lake's destruction of Wheat Hill?"

"No! I'm very fond of the girl, and I don't see her destroying anything."

Timber summoned his bravery. "But you just said–"

"Adam, I did see your father-in-law's best cow dying before the poor beast did! I saw that! I warned him."

The whole village knew the cow had been ill for months, but Adam nodded solemnly. "Poor Tevor has learned his lesson, I hope."

"He had better," Bethany warned with a wag of her finger.

"T'was vampires that killed that cow."

For the love of the Heaven and all that it shined upon... Rina rolled her eyes. An hour before she had settled Old Robert in the corner with a tankard of ale and a pinch of Bethany's best sleeping powder. Apparently that had warned off.

Timber's eyes grew. "Vampires?"

"Vampires. The creatures of the living dead. I used to see them in the mill all the time."

Now Rina would have to lock up Timber to keep him from wandering up to the mill.

"But Robert, I thought you killed the vampires," Adam said with the same solemnity he had given Bethany.

"I did. After they killed Tevor's cow."

"I want to be a vampire," Timber said, raising his hand. "I shall ask William Miller if there are any vampires left."

Another story spread by Robert's tongue. Rina shook her head. "I'll not be having a vampire for a son! If there were any left, William, being the brave man he is, has certainly destroyed them."

Timber looked disappointed. "Then I shall ask Lake to protect any vampires that come. I shall go now." He booked for the door.

"Don't waste your breath," Bethany said. "Neither Lake or William is here."

Timber stopped.

"That's right," Adam said, taking another swig. "Linda told me that Lake told her they had an invitation to King Cherdith's palace."

"The King!" Rina wanted to faint right then and there. But that would be bad for business.

----------------------------------------------

It wasn't the most impressive palace Lake had ever seen, but it certainly held its own respectability. Lake stood in the center of the throne room's long hall, pretending to stare in awe at the marble columns and the red velvet carpet, stretched out like a cat's tongue. Of course she was amazed. She was only a simple miller's daughter.

Speaking of the miller... William stood next to her, all huffing and puffing with feinted nerves. What was he, a simple miller, doing in the King's grand hall?

"How much money do you peg King Cherdith for?" Lake whispered.

"Fair amount. We'll make good. Jaybird is making the assessment right now, he'll report back tonight."

"You think we'll stay that long?" She quickly threaded a braid into her hair. Braids always worked for innocence.

William chuckled. "Of course we will."

Maybe this king would have a proper mirror. Maybe one hanging up. She looked up and down the hall. Empty, save for the usual guards. And a man, in the corner, watching them.

She ignored him.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, a trumpet blared with brash sound. She would certainly have to suggest a new trumpet player, once she was on the King's good side. Speaking of that, who would propose? The King? Or perhaps he had a son?

A guard stepped forward. He was tall, lithe, and looked all too excited to be there. His fellow guard was a bigger man, younger, and looked like he would rather just fall asleep right then and there. "Announcing his Royal Majesty, King Cherdith VI!"

Sixth of his line. Ooh. A lot of pomp for a tiny kingdom.

The king appeared, and Lake found herself praying that if a proposal were to be made, this ruler wouldn't be the object of the marriage. He was at least fifty, and bald besides. And his gray beard was crooked. He came in from the side, not glancing at Lake nor William, and seated himself in the throne. The sleepy guard yawned.

King Cherdith made himself comfortable, patted the armrests, and flashed a big, friendly smile. "So," he said with hardly any mannerisms that Lake could detect. "You are the new miller of Wheat Hill. My, but the palace has bought fine wheat from you."

William bowed, eyes to the ground. "Thank-you, Your Highness."

The King laughed. "Ah, humility. Now that's something I like to see. Sometimes. But not when I am busy. I shall cut right to the matter of why I have summoned you here, and it has little to do with you, William Miller."

William faked a cough and nodded with most of the irritating humility.

"I am speaking, of course, of your lovely daughter. Is this the dear girl right here?"

Lake gave the king a smile and curtsey. Maybe, today, she would be the innocent country girl of spunk and charm. Yes, that would be a good role to play. Of course she had spunk and charm. Though her innocence left something to be desired. "Yes, Your Majesty. My darling father and my dear mother, God rest her soul, christened me Lake." Normally it was due to wait for the king to ask one's name, but a sweet, charming girl of a poor village would have no idea of such propriety.

And it worked. The king smiled with true tenderness. "What a beautiful name, Lake. And I hear you have great skill. A talent."

"Talent?" she echoed.

"I have heard that you can spin straw into gold."

She blushed, the nicest blush she could show. "Well, good king, I do not find it fitting that I should brag..."

"You are telling me that you really can do such a thing?" King Cherdith leaned forward, greed now joining the kindness in his eyes.

"We give most of the gold to the poor, Your Highness," William put in. "As proper, but a king of your goodness and wisdom..."

King Cherdith laughed and winked. "Ah, William Miller, I must say that I like you. You are a good and intelligent man, and I feel that we may think alike. I want your daughter Lake to spend tonight spinning a room of straw for me."

That took William back. "I... she has never done so much before! I don't know–"

"That it would be a good test of her skill? A challenge? An adventure? Come, sir, we cannot grow if we never challenge ourselves!"

Lake made herself look somewhat frightened.

"Don't worry, I have upmost faith in you! You can do it!"

William and Lake exchanged nervous looks–and an unnoticed smile. Then Lake curtseyed. "As it pleases Your Majesty."

"And it does. You are a charming girl. I shall now have a servant take you and your father to some rooms prepared for you. Or maybe the guards?"

Lake would have expected more obedience, but even the happy guard looked at the king in bewilderment. King Cherdith shrugged and clapped his hands. A girl appeared from seemingly out of nowhere. Palaces. "Yes, Your Highness?"

"Susan... Anne... whatever your name is, take my guests to their rooms."

The girl, Susan, Anne, or something else, nodded and curtseyed. Then she smiled shyly at Lake and William. "Follow me."

"And Lake," the king called after them. "Someone shall fetch you at sunset."

Why in the world did it always have to be sunset?

Yes, the palace certainly wasn't the largest–though not the smallest. But it was so... dark. Lake rather liked that. It made things more exciting. Outside of the throne room, there was little light aside from the mounted torches of flickering shadows. The carpet was thick under her bare feet, but could easily be mistaken for a swamp. And the paintings... There was one of a storm-ridden lake. She paused to admire it.

"Lake, dearest?" William called back to her.

Eh, she could find her way. "I shall soon follow."

Apparently the servant didn't care.

The painting wasn't of the upmost talent–brush strokes much too large, but she did like the way the lightening cut across the sky. One could almost see the rain–

Then a hand clapped itself over her mouth!

"The artist who painted this was murdered!" a voice hissed.

Lake gave a muffled scream and tried to rip herself away, but the two arms held her fast. This had never happened! This was an angel, an angel come to punish her, not that she cared.

And then the laughing began.

She burst from captivity with another yell ripping at her throat and whirled around. It was a man about her age, laughing as if he had never seen anything funnier.

"Idiot!" she cried. "To frighten an innocent girl. A bastard you are to the highest–" The shouting stopped. This man was dressed much too fine for...

She felt sick.

But he only laughed again, smiling back at her with a broad smile and a sharp green gaze. "I must introduce myself as Prince Isaac."

The prince himself. This was awkward. Wasn't she supposed to curtsey or something? Yes, that was right. The sweet, charming, and innocent village girl caught unawares would curtsey. Oh, yes.

"Really, you must be careful in these halls." Prince Isaac nodded mysteriously. "It would be best for you."

Well, he was mad. Or playing games. Lake decided to throw off the pretense. "Maybe the murderer will find you."

He laughed again. "Now that would be great fun. For your own safety, I shall escort you to your room. Now you were following Kathryn, and I believe she was headed down that way.." He gestured down the hall William and the servant girl had gone. "Yes, that's right. If you'll just give me your arm..."

Sweet girl could return. She smiled sweetly and slipped her arm through his. It was always fun to be escorted by a prince. And he was one of the handsomer ones.

"So," Prince Isaac said as he led her down the darkening hall; some seriousness had returned. "What brings you to the palace?"

She shrugged. "I can spin gold, and your father wishes me to spin tonight."

Prince Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Gold, you say. Well, that is a talent. That is something I shall have to see!"

She shook her head. "No, sir. I... I prefer to work in private."

"Hmm. All right, then. I guess I shall just have to see in the morning." He really did not seem all that excited. They arrived at her room, and he kissed her hand. "Beware the murderers, fair lady..."

"Lake," she said. "Lake Miller."

"That's an odd name. Good night, if you can put up with all the spinning. I don't know what would be considered a good night, but good night all the same."

She shut the door and turned to her father. "I think we have a doubter."

Whatever. There was no real concern there.

------------------------------------------------

King Cherdith's wealth was respectable indeed. Though Jay could not break into the treasury rooms, the baubles and trimmings lining the palace were proof enough, not that a peek into the rooms weren't bad in themselves. He didn't know yet how much they should take, but whatever they took would be good indeed.

He slipped down a shortcut he had found within an hour into the servant's quarters. There was an empty room that would serve well enough until they were ready to leave. How long would it take for Lake to get into the treasury, anyway? Oh, well. He had grown up with a harder life. He pushed against the door and–

"What do you think you're doing?'

He froze.

The girls stood just up the hall, faces aglow with laughter. There were three of them. Maids, by the look of them. Or maybe they worked in the kitchen. Eh, Jay didn't know these things. They were servant girls.

"My, Caroline, but I think you scared him," said one smartly. She held a pail in her hands, a damp cloth over one shoulder. Her blonde hair was pulled back with twine.

The one called Caroline laughed hard. She was very pretty, pale brown hair that framed her round face. She was somewhat on the plumper side, but it only served to accent her curves, the ones Jay couldn't help but notice. "Well, Kathryn, you failed to take advantage of the other folk, so I might as well tease you. Shall I call the guards on you, sir? Andrea, fetch Hyrum and Peter, they'll do."

The third girl, a tall thing with dark eyes, snickered.

Caroline took a step forward, her hazel eyes all the while on Jay. "Goodness me, but he is a handsome one, isn't he? And a rogue, I'm sure of it."

Kathryn gave a false scream. "In our quarters! Oh, dear!"

"Scandal, indeed," Caroline said with a solemn nod. "Look, he's blushing!"

Jay cursed inwardly. Indeed he was. He wasn't used to being caught like this.

Caroline's smile increased. "I think we really should call Hyrum and Peter. He must be thrown out. No, he must have his head cut off!"

All three girls cheered.

Jay gulped. "I'll leave. Just don't tell!"

The laughter died from Caroline's face. "Oh, come on. Don't be a fool. We don't want you to leave, but if you're planning on stowing away in the palace, you had better do so away from the woman's area. You'll frighten poor Andrea."

"Then, where can I stay?"

The girls exchanged a vicious smile.

Jay found himself out in the barn that night, Caroline's laugh still echoing in his ears.


	6. Dungeon of Straw

The room King Cherdith had given Lake and William was, by all means, quite nice. They had been in nicer rooms, of course, but then again they had been in worse. It was large enough, with lovely, expensive rugs and a tapestry of a ballroom scene on one wall. Besides, the chamber had large poofy pillows wrapped in blue velvet all over the couches and beds. Lake had always had a weakness for poofy pillows.

"You see, Papa," she said brightly while testing the pillows' durability between her hands. "These are nice. If we ever bothered to purchase blue velvet, I'm quite sure I could make some of these."

William was pleased enough by the supper cart one of the servants had pushed in. "You've never shown an interest in blue velvet before. I thought red was your favorite color." He sampled the broiled fish. "At least we're getting a good supper before they send you off to be tortured."

It was true that red would be a preferable color, Lake thought as she studied the pillow currently in her hands. "Well, it's the pillows that I like. Color doesn't matter." She tossed the example onto the floor with the rest of them.

"Then why, my darling daughter, did you have to bring up blue? Specifically blue?"

She climbed onto the bed nearest the pillow pile. The mattress was softer than she had expected, and it was all she could do to keep her balance. "Papa, forget about it. I will take any color under the rainbow, as long as it's velvet and will lend itself to some decent pillows. Do you have any idea how hard it is to make a pillow properly poofy? But you don't know a single thing about sewing, so of course you have no idea. Such a tragedy. It's even more difficult to keep the pillows poofy. It's about strength. They have to be able to take use and abuse!"

William smiled serenely and helped himself to another bite of fish. To be honest, they had used a little too much oil. Oh, well, it was tasty enough. Lake could bake a little more than decently, but the fact remained that cooking and baking were two entirely different pursuits. "I take it you're referring to the abuse that you are about to pour upon them right now?"

She flashed him a bright grin and wrapped her braid around the rest of her hair like a piece of string. "What else would you expect from me?" With a made-up cry that must have been stolen from some tribe she leaped from the bed into the pillow pile, where she sank deeply.

William gave a smattering of applause.

"Whoa! Well, they are plenty poofy." Her head appeared, dizzy smile spread over her face as she struggled to her feet. "I should do that again!"

A knock sounded at the door. "Miss Miller?"

"Ahh!" Lake flopped over the pillows and landed in a heap. "Night time already?"

William shoved another sliver of fish into his mouth. "Apparently so."

Was she supposed to answer the door herself. Lake doubted she had the wits about her to do so. She rose to her feet, this time without falling again, and stumbled to the door. "You realize, Papa, you could help out here."

He shrugged. "I'm only the one that has the gifted daughter."

She stuck her tongue out at him and opened the door.

The face of the perky guard from the throne room. Behind him stood His Majesty King Cherdith VI himself.

"Wonderful to see you again!" the guard said with an impressively deep bow. "I am here to escort you to the room in which you will be spinning. Such an impressive talent! I would love to see you at work. His Majesty also wishes to accompany you."

Goodness me, Lake thought. A king and a friendly guard all at once. She remembered the appropriate girlish blush and giggle. Oh, and she mustn't forget the curtsey. "I do hope my work pleases you, Your Highness."

King Cherdith still looked taken with her--in a fatherly way. That was a relief.

"I will say that His Majesty King Cherdith has high taste," the guard continued. "But the entire palace has been gossiping about your talent and gossip isn't exactly silenced around here as quickly as some might want it so--"

"That is quite enough, Peter," the king said, shoving the guard out of the way. Peter had a laugh written all over his face, but moved regardless. It was all Lake could do to keep herself from laughing. The king instead offered Lake his arm, smiling kindly. "Ignore Peter if he ever bothers you. I'd get rid of him if he weren't such a good guard. And was willing to check my meals for poison. Are you quite ready to begin your task?"

She gave the most darling shrug she could hope for. "If it is what Your Highness wishes, I am always ready. It isn't so difficult, I suppose."

King Cherdith laughed deeply. "You really are a dear girl. I should introduce you to my son, if you haven't bumped into him yet. He enjoys having a rather random run of the castle. Never quite sure where he is at." He led her away from the door, which Peter closed, and began a trail through the halls. "He likes scaring people."

Don't I know it, Lake thought with some amusement. It wouldn't surprise her if Prince Isaac picked another moment to jump out and declare another murder. That would be funny.

"I think it would be hysterical, Your Majesty, if we did stage a disaster for the Prince's degrading," Peter said as if reading her thoughts.

The king laughed again. Lake wondered if there were anything at which he did not laugh. "Miss Miller--"

"You can call me Lake, if you wish. Your Highness."

"Lake, then. Lake, I am sure this is all strange to you. Many peasants think that life in the royal palace is so much more grand than it really is. This must all strike you as frightening, that we can act so casual."

"Life in the palace has always been a mystery to me, good King." Good King? Did that sound humble enough? Well, it was cute and it had worked before. "I have had a hundred different dreams of what it must be like." The truth was that she had seen pretty much everything, from high snobbery to royalist doing chores.

"So this doesn't surprise you?" asked Peter. "So much the better."

"Peter, you really are scaring the young woman."

"Sorry, Your Majesty."

"But she really is a quaint little thing, aren't you, dear?" He patted her arm. Lake was beginning to feel like she was six years old. This would make for a great story. "Well, here is the room in which you will be working." They stopped before an old door with rusted iron hinges. Lake wondered how far they had walked.

"I'm so excited," she said. "I will try my absolute best for you."

Peter opened the door. It looked like a dungeon. A dungeon filled with straw. Were they going to lock her with chains? That had happened before. It was all she could do to keep from laughing out loud. "It's the best spinning wheel we could find in the palace, Your Majesty." Shouldn't he be talking to her?

Lake slowly tottered in and stared at the bales of straw with reasonable fear and apprehension. "Oh, my. This is quite a lot." Not really.

Peter and King Cherdith did not follow her in. "Someone shall come for you at dawn," the king said.

Peter grabbed a torch from the wall and lit it with a match. "Good luck, girl."

And then they locked the door.

Lake finally let out the laughs she had wanted and made her way to the spinning wheel. She could spin about as well as any other girl, just not straw into gold. It always amazed her how many people believed that such a silly thing as straw could possibly turn into earth-made metal. She gave the wheel a good spin. Yes, it was a good spinning wheel. If only she had some wool or something, she could occupy herself until Jay appeared. Good old Jay.

The torchlight flickered, and she found herself staring at the shadows on the wall. They changed with every bounce of the flames. She could make up stories. A tragic girl, running from an evil stepmother, lost in the woods... what a lovely story. The woods were there on the wall, so was the girl. And that shadow. It flickered horrifyingly. That shadow could be the wolf that ate her. Yes, it was a remarkable story. Now to make up another one.

Her eyes noticed the straw. Or she could just jump in the straw. She balanced herself on the stool next to the wheel and jumped. Not as nice as the pillows, but fun enough. She took a deep breath and dove through. She loved the way straw smelled. Where in the world did all the straw always come from, she wondered. Were there animals in the barn going hungry? None of her business. She pushed herself up and lay back on the straw, staring at the shadows on the ceiling.

There was something nice about being locked in a room, something that always had appealed to her imagination. The shadow story she had just made up had ended tragically enough, but that was always in mocking. For now she could pretend that a wicked witch had caught her and she just had to find a way out...

Her thoughts faded away.

A human voice trickled through the stone walls, singing. A male voice. It wasn't Jay's, she knew his. Besides, her brother couldn't sing. She closed her eyes and relied on her ears to pick up what they could. The song drifted in and out, almost clear enough for her to understand the words for just a few moments before fading away again. It was a talented voice, certainly trained.

A ghost, she half-wondered.

No, she had to stop pretending. Someone alive, and in the palace. Not that a ghost couldn't be inside the palace. But definitely alive. The King? Peter? Another guard?

Maybe it was Prince Isaac. Maybe he was pretending to be the ghost. That thought made her smile.

"Lake..."

She screamed and rolled off the pile of straw. The stone floor beneath hurt. "Jaybird!"

"Hey, you're supposed to wait, not sleep." Her brother extended a hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Well, you were taking your own sweet time."

"I had to come from the barn." He did not say that as a joke.

She laughed. "What in the world were you doing in the barn?"

He shook his head and made his way to the spinning wheel. "The servants in this palace like to imagine that they run the place. This girl Caroline decided it would be the perfect place for me." He closed his eyes, picked up a handful of straw, and tossed it at the spinning wheel. Threads of gold dropped to the floor.

"You were caught?"

"It isn't like I haven't been seen before," he retorted. He frowned at the spinning wheel and turned to the piles of straw. In the early days Jay had always needed something to focus his magic through--a spinning wheel--but had progressed past there. "Though I will say it is annoying when they lock the doors and windows. You know how I hate walking through walls."

"You used to love it, Jay." She sat back as he concentrated. Last time it had taken twenty minutes, tops, to create the illusion of gold.

"Yes, well, it's hard. Now shush."

Half an hour, Lake guessed, when the work was finished. Not Jay's best work. Still, it was interesting to watch. He would concentrate, and almost instantly the straw would turn into an illusion of gold, stuff that would never last longer than a week before the magic and the straw itself disintegrated. But until then, or better said until dawn, they had a pile of soft gold/straw to lie on. And stare at the shadows on the ceiling.

"So," Jay said nonchalantly. "How is the King? Do you think he will be the type to propose marriage?"

Lake made a face. "Much too old. And looks old. Not like Papa. Who, by the way, has found a recipe for fish that he likes. But he does have a son. The marriage will probably be proposed there."

"You do realize that will break Timber Wood's heart."

"Eh, he'll get over it." Timber was an awfully cute little boy. If she had been his age... but she wasn't, so he would have to break the heart of some other infant.

"Have you met the Prince, then?"

"Yes. He startled me in the hall."

Jay laughed. "You're easy to startle. Well, is Prince Boy worthy for a simple country maiden to simper up to?"

Lake considered it. Prince Isaac had not been the ugliest prince she had ever seen. "I think he'll do, should the King want us married."

"Lake, there has been a total of two times when you were never proposed to."

"And they had already had their mistresses. Tell me about the servant girls. You mentioned a Caroline."

"They were evil. I would rather not talk about them."

She kicked his leg. "Oh, yes you do!"

"Sorry." He rolled over and instantly went to sleep.

She would never get tired over pestering him over women. But a nap would not be a bad thing.

She didn't wake until dawn, when pounding came at the door. "Hey, girl! You finished the gold yet?"

She opened one eye and pushed herself up. Jay was already gone, and the torch was barely burning. "Huh?"

Whomever was at the door sighed. "The gold. Aren't you the girl that spins the gold?"

"Don't yell at her, Hyrum," came the king's voice. "Miss Lake, we're unlocking the door."

Well, the gold was finished. She had accomplished quite a bit, if she had actually done it. "I hope you are pleased, Your Majesty."

The door swung open, and King Cherdith's face instantly lit up. "My girl!" he declared. "You really are incredible!" He instantly picked up gold thread in his hand. "It is gold! See, Hyrum?"

The guard only looked mildly interested. Grey eyes swept briefly over the room. Of course. It was Peter's sleepy companion from the throne room. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Lake giggled and curtsied. "You must see it." She took the liberty of dumping a few thread's into Hyrum's hand. That startled him, and he dropped it. "This has to be the weirdest thing I have ever seen."

"I find it wonderful," the king said. "Lake, my girl, let's go get you and your father some breakfast."

Hyrum just rolled his eyes.


	7. A Process of Nicknames

Jay didn't figure there was any point spending the rest of the day at the palace. Or the barn, where Caroline had banished him. After all, he wasn't supposed to be in the palace, had never been invited there, and he wasn't needed again until nightfall— assuming King Cherdith would demand Lake take another go at the spinning wheel. They always did. In a day or so they would have access to the treasury rooms or other nice things.

Not that Jay hadn't already sample some of their nice things. At dawn he strolled back into Wheat Hill with a sack full of candlesticks and silver plates stolen from the kitchen. It hadn't been hard at all to take them; maybe one day he should just attempt to find the treasury room on his own.

Nah. He shook that thought away. Walking through walls was not the most pleasant task in the world, no matter what non-magical folk thought. It hurt like hell and took way too much energy. It was bad enough when he was forced to walk through one to get to Lake's dungeon of the night. And he never tried to find her, either. Ask a guard or a servant or someone, or maybe just give an ear to the gossip, and it was plenty easy to learn where that special girl was spinning the gold.

Tevor Fisher was already up, fishing pole over his shoulder and feet pointed toward the stream that ran near the mill. The village sat squarely behind him, looking on fire with the rising sun. He put a hand over his eyes as Jay pranced up the road. "Jaybird Miller! Back from the King so early?"

Jay flashed him a grin and a wave. The stolen objects were well hidden. "Yes. It was a pleasant time. The King is a good soul." Maybe. Jay hadn't exactly gotten around to meeting the man. But people liked to hear that their mysterious king was of the decent type. If they cared. Jay had to wonder if these people actually cared about the king. Few people gave royalty a second thought.

Tevor nodded in acceptance. "They sent you off pretty early, didn't they?"

Sunrise was an odd time to return. Jay shrugged. "Well, I wanted to get an early start on today. Maybe run the mill until Papa gets back." He could do that easily enough. He had been training to be a miller long before the family had turned to a life of crime.

"Oh?" Tevor raised an eyebrow. "Your father is staying? Your sister as well?"

The old man was actually fishing for gossip. These people were desperate for anything to yammer over. "Yes. His Royal Majesty has invited them to remain a few more days."

Tevor chuckled and shook his head. "And you weren't?"

"I wasn't even invited in the first place."

"Can't blame you tagging along anyway, lad. I would have done the same thing at your age. If you have half an opportunity to visit a royal palace, you take it for all that it's worth."

Well, being the one that snuck in and made the fairy gold didn't exactly introduce one to the royal family. Jay had yet to meet a king yet. Now he would have to make up yet another story about how wonderful and gracious and pathetically royal King Cherdith was. He had done it before, many a time. It was fun, especially when he added stories to it. "The king has a trained pig for his court jester."

This time Tevor really did show his amazement. "No fooling?"

Jay finally made it to the spot where Tevor stood. "Yep, that's the truth. Dances on its hind legs, sings songs, and everything."

Tevor scratched the back of his neck, eyes still wide. "Now that would be something spectacular to see."

"Oh, it was. So, did anything interesting happen while I was watching the trained pig?"

Tevor paused for thought. "Nothing much. Rina Wood's boy Timber has it in his mind to hunt down a vampire and demand the damned creature turn him into a vampire. Then he plans to marry your sister Lake and breed an entire vampire army."

Jay laughed. Perhaps he should have killed the kid with that cart. "I don't think Lake would be up to that."

Tevor laughed as well. "Just keep in mind that they'll be taking the country over in a few years. Oh, and Adam and Linda will be the first blood-giving victims."

"Poor them."

"And Old Robert, out of his mind, is going to stop the army single-handedly. He's taking the vampire business pretty seriously."

"Really."

As if on cue, a sound rang from somewhere in the village: beaten pots and a scream of "We will not surrender!"

Jay coughed.

Tevor shook his head and sighed. "Sometimes I think I should just pack up and leave this place."

"Or pack up Robert."

They both had a good laugh out of that, though Jay was groaning on the inside. "Well, Tevor, I better be going."

"As should I. By the way, does the king's pig juggle, perchance?"

Oh, boy. "As a matter of fact, it does."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Amazing. Well, take care of yourself and quit making up stories about trained pigs." Tevor swung the pole over his other shoulder and trotted down the road to the stream.

Jay remained there a moment, wondering if Robert would give out another interesting cry, but there was nothing. He stared out into the wheat fields, thinking about really nothing. He didn't feel anything. The fairy folk did not venture so close to mortals; he sensed his mother better in the woods.

"Look, it's Jay!"

He turned. Oh, no. The morning rush of girls out to do whatever chores they could manage around him. He blew them a kiss that left them giggling as girls were prone to do and then sped off for the cottage.

"He's so shy!" one called. Willow, he thought her name was. Or something like that. He never bothered to learn their names until he was cornered by them. They had better not be following him.

But all it took was one quick glance over his shoulder for a more-than-decent confirmation. Did they really find this so amusing?

The mill was just ahead. He sprang over a rock, half-tripped on a log, and shoved himself against the door. It was locked. He placed his hand on the lock and shoved again. The door flew open. He dashed inside and slammed it shut.

The giggle could still be heard. "We know you're in there!"

They were right. He was in there, but they couldn't get in. At least the curtains Lake had made were drawn shut. He pulled off the sack and dumped out. Trinkets indeed, but not bad trinkets. Trinkets were worth something.

If they were so wealthy, how come they always found themselves living in holes like this? Jay laughed to himself as he examined a candlestick. Thieving was just too much fun.

"Watcha got there?"

That little voice came out of nowhere. Jay dropped the candlestick and looked up. The candlestick hit the floor with a tinkle of something broken inside and rolled into the corner.

Two bright eyes stared down from the rafters like little glowing candles.

He sighed. "Timber, get down from there." He wondered how the brat got up there in the first place.

"All right!" The eyes moved as two short legs in tattered pants swung down almost into Jay's eyes. The rest of Timber Wood's body appeared, minus his hands that clung to the last to the rafters. "I can't get the rest of the way down."

The kid had five feet to go. "Just drop."

Timber landed on the floor, fine, and resumed talking. "So what was that thing you were looking at?"

Wasn't this a grand situation? Jay hadn't ever expected to be caught by a child.

Timber scampered over the floor to where the candlestick lay. "Ooh! It's shiny!" He rattled it. "And it makes noise!"

"Isn't it great?" Jay replied dryly, quickly shoving the rest of the items into the sack.

Too late. Timber saw. He darted back over and grabbed the sack from Jay's hand. "Where did you get this stuff?"

Jay briefly wondered if it wouldn't hurt to just go ahead and tell the boy the truth. Timber would either refuse to believe it or accept it as a really wild story. And then he could go blab it to the rest of the village. "It's mine."

Timber didn't look impressed. "You own a candlestick? I thought girls owned stuff like that."

"It's Lake's, then."

Timber tossed it aside. "The plates are nice, though. My Mama would like them."

Hmm. Maybe Rina would like a few silver plates. Jay piled everything back into the sack and tossed the whole lot onto the table. "So how in the world did you get in here?"

Timber shrugged and sat down on the floor to pick at the scab on his leg. Jay understood the preoccupation with scabs. "You people never lock your back door."

Jay blinked. This was new. "What back door?"

"The one in the pantry," he replied as the obvious. "You can't see it very well from the outside, the vines are in the way."

Jay never went into the pantry. Thanks be to all that was good. If the village girls found out about that... "Why do you know this?"

"I'm a child. It's our job to know these things."

Jay laughed. "You have a point there. So I hear you're going to become a vampire."

Timber shook his head. "Nah. That was yesterday. I think I got Old Robert too excited over it. Besides, vampires aren't real. But murderers are."

Jay stared. "What? Murderers?"

"Yes. Murderers." He yanked off a hunk of scab and tossed it onto the floor. "There's one staying in our barn."

All right, this was getting weird. "Timber, why is there a murderer in your barn?"

"He was traveling through yesterday, and he got tired and Mama said he could sleep in the barn." A small dot of blood rose from where the scab used to be. He went again for the hard stuff, dirty nails and all.

"And how do you know he's a murderer?"

Timber rolled his eyes. "Because he looks like one."

What exactly was a murderer supposed to look like?

"Besides," the boy continued. "He stopped in Wheat Hill. No one ever stops in Wheat Hill unless they're moving here to live or want to hide out here so they can run to the palace the next day and murder someone and run back and no one would ever suspect them because they were staying in Wheat Hill and not the capital city."

"Sounds like perfect knowledge." Jay laughed. "And where do you learn all of this?"

Timber shrugged and continued picking at the scab.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Lake wasn't exactly thrilled to death over the prospect of breakfast. She was hungry of course, but the peasant girl enthralled by palace life simply didn't care. Besides, what would it end up as? Judging by the overall wealth status of the palace and the fare served the night before in a bedroom of all things she hadn't anticipated much more than some bread and jam served on a platter back in the room with those wonderful fluffy pillows. Which, honestly, would have been fine for her. Yes, she could see that image in her head right then, herself perched on a stack of fluffy and velvety pillows munching on a thick slice of crusty bread loaded with fruit jam. No, wait. She wasn't a big fan of jam. Scratch that. But the pillows would have been good. If she could find a good balcony somewhere in the palace and lie maybe a hundred of those pillows beneath it and get a good running jump...

She spotted the perfect balcony on the way from that dinky little dungeon room. Except it was too high. She'd kill herself if she tried to make that jump. Wouldn't Prince Isaac love that?

No suitable balconies appeared on the rest of the walk.

Why was she thinking about jumping off balconies into pillows? Was she really that bored? Pathetic, Lake, she told herself. The stealing thing was getting to be less and less of a rush.

A dark-haired servant girl appeared around the corner ahead of them and immediately dropped the pile of towels she held. Lake suppressed a laugh; it wasn't nice to make fun of the help.

Hyrum raised a thick eyebrow. He looked something like a bear, Lake decided, big, gruff, and brown. Oh, how he'd hate to be called that. Yes, Bear was going to be this guard's name. She wasn't at all sure what to call Peter. Maybe just Peter. Didn't matter, she would be gone before they found out about the nicknames. "Isn't Caroline supposed to be in charge of that?"

They were complaining over chores in front of the King— that definitely earned some points.

The girl bent down and began scooping up the towels. King Cherdith didn't even seem to notice. In fact, Lake realized, the man was standing there humming while waiting for Hyrum the Bear to continue the armed procession. Probably thinking about gold, if she knew the wealthy. "Caroline has the day off, remember?"

Hyrum the Bear sighed. "Like I'm supposed to care when who does what, Andrea."

Wasn't that what he was doing right then?

Andrea didn't look at him, but the faintest hint of a smile bit at the corners of her mouth as she scooped up the towels.

The Bear sighed again and reached down to grab a bunch, which he shoved into her arms. "Sorry we scared you. Just do something with those and run along to tell the cook or whoever is in charge that the miller's daughter--"

"Lake, sir," Lake said, as if without thinking. Of course she added a curtsey. "My name is Lake."

The Bear didn't seem to care. "Lake. Yes. Just tell them that she isn't going to have her head chopped off and to set her and her father places on the king's table."

King Cherdith patted her arm. "Don't listen to him, I never even considered killing you or your father."

Lake beamed. "I appreciate that, Your Majesty."

Andrea grabbed her towels and scampered off while the Bear muttered something under his breath and trudged forward.

It took a long time. Where exactly did they keep the oh so wonderful dining hall? Lake wondered if Hyrum got lost. But they finally arrived, Lake's stomach growling in desperation. The room was simple enough, big and broad as all royalty demanded such things, with a few choice tapestries and a table big enough for the entire country. Four plates glimmered at one end like single coins tossed into an ocean. They rather looked lonely. Lake hung awkwardly at the door.

"Enjoy your meal, Your Majesty, Lake," The Bear said. "I shall take my patrol at the east gates."

"Thank-you, Hyrum," the King said with barely a glance as Hyrum disappeared. Then he clapped his hands and grinned. "Oh, Lake! I am ecstatic about what you did for me— your kingdom— last night! It was absolutely spectacular and I've never seen anything like it. Wherever did you learn it?"

Lake smiled modestly. "Oh, Your Majesty, I'm really not sure. I just... picked it up."

"A fairy gift, more likely. Ah, well. Charming and glorious just the same. Magnificent."

She wondered how many adjectives the man had.

"But I'm delaying things. I've never been very punctual about mealtime, but I'm sure you must be starved after working hard all night long. So sit down and we shall await your good father and perhaps my son will even join us." He scooted her along to the far end of the table where the plates awaited and even assisted her into a chair. She examined the plate carefully. China. Not bad at all.

The King sat down next to her and looked expectantly to the door. Sure enough a tough-looking guard with blonde hair stomped in with her father, who was doing his very best to look stunned by the whole room. Lake decided to call the guard Canary. No particular reason.

"I'm too simple a miller to eat here!" William cried. "I couldn't possibly--"

"Thank-you, Obrin," the King said to The Canary. "My good miller, you are my guest and I insist you eat. Obrin is one of my finest guards," he then whispered to Lake as if it were some grand secret.

She wondered about Peter.

After some coaxing from the Canary William finally allowed himself into the dining hall where he sat, with continuing protests, on the other side of Lake. And the breakfast was delicious. Scrambled eggs, ham, and something Lake had no idea of the origin of but did indeed taste good. One of the best perks of this ruse was the royal food. She was sliding eggs into her mouth when the Prince walked in.

"You're late for our guests, Isaac," King Cherdith said.

Lake looked up and immediately caught Prince Isaac's eye. He grinned at her. He was probably thinking of the murder story he had told her last night. He nodded to his father and gave a gracious bow. Impressive. "You all have my most humblest apologies."

Lake saw the look in his eyes. Whatever.

A servant ran to fetch the Prince something to eat while he made his way to their side of the table. He was better-looking than Lake remembered. Black hair, with just a hint of curl. The face was shaped nice, as well, nice and round and rather cute. The nose had a good shape as well. And he certainly did his physical activity.

She should smack herself. But there was nothing wrong with looking.

Prince Isaac bowed once more to her father. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. My father has spoke of you and it's good to meet the man that makes the fine wheat."

Like he could tell the difference.

William made a rather shocked bow for himself. Oh, he was good at this game, himself.

"And your daughter," Isaac stepped around the chair to take her hand. "I've already had the pleasure of meeting you."

Lake noticed the rather gleeful look on the King's face. He was already plotting. Excellent. Just build up the greed a little more and she would have this particular royal family. At least their gold. "Oh, really? Isaac, you didn't tell me this."

"She delayed last night in the hall, Father," Isaac replied as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. What a gentleman. "So I escorted her to her room."

It wouldn't be appropriate at that point to let the King know his son had scared the living daylights out of her.

The door to the kitchen opened, momentarily releasing a strong chord of off-key singing, and the servant reappeared with food for Isaac. She filled his plate and left again, leaving eggs and the other stuff gently steaming two chairs away, on the other side of the King.

"I insist you actually eat breakfast, Isaac," King Cherdith said.

Isaac paused. He was still holding her hand.

Lake flashed a small smile. "It's probably poisoned," she whispered.

He laughed aloud. "Father, I like this one."

"Good. Now eat your food."

Isaac, this time, went to his chair. Lake found herself watching him as he did.

"Did you hear about what she did this last night?" the King asked.

"Did she do her best?" William asked. "I want my daughter to her best, especially for her King."

"Ah." Isaac forked some egg into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "The gold spinner. I heard about that. So, Lady Lake, you succeeded?"

She tilted her head to the side. "Well, I did try. It wasn't so much, of course."

"You actually did that." He reached for more egg, tone somewhat incredulous. "This I have to see."

"Oh, son, you must."

William nodded happily and spread out his hands. "You should see what she can do with even more straw. It's unbelievable. Let me tell you, it's unbelievable. She wasn't risen to the challenge very often, but she can do it."

"Papa!" Lake blushed.

King Cherdith studied some tapestry on the opposite wall, frowning thoughtfully. "Well, Miss Lake, perhaps you wouldn't mind demonstrating your talents again?"

She stuffed another bite of the delicious mystery food into her mouth and chewed rapidly. Appear shy, make an excuse not to talk. They would think it cute.

"So soon, Your Highness?" William asked, the first hint of fear creeping in. "Though at the same time we do have a mill to be getting back to, so the sooner the better, perhaps."

Lake pretended she was considering it. "Well..."

"Oh, she'll have a few nights' rest, of course," the King said with a wave of his hand. "I'm not about to make the poor child overwork herself. If you are sure you must go back to the mill, William, I shall send you with an escort, though you are perfectly welcome to remain my guest a little while longer."

"That sounds like fun!" Lake went as far as to throw her hands in the hair.

"Then so be it," said the King. "Entertain yourself for a few days. Explore the palace at your will, girl. In fact, why doesn't the Prince take you on a tour?"

Isaac almost choked on something. As soon as he had his breath, though, the reply was that he would be happy to.

Lake found herself smiling for real.

The King looked as pleased as anything. She was going to have to call him the Cat. He finished his breakfast at a rapid rate and then suddenly thought of something he wished to show William.

And before she knew it, Lake found herself in the room with Prince Isaac, standing behind their chairs like a couple of village idiots.

"So," Isaac finally said with a grin and raising a hand to widely sweep over the room. "This magnificent dwelling is the dining hall. Where we eat food."

Lake clapped her hands. "I never would have guessed."

"Oh, yes. Unbelievable, isn't it?" He made a show, then, of pointing to the double doors. "And those lead to the hall outside of this room. I bet you didn't see that one coming. They're made of mahogany, if you care. Very expensive."

"And that's the kitchen, isn't it?" Lake pointed to the kitchen door.

Isaac nodded with feinted enthusiasm. "Yes! Guess what they do there?"

Lake raised a finger to her chin. "Is that where they make the food?"

"Yes!" Isaac's arms shot into the air in a pose of utter victory. "You are so smart!"

She shrugged and laughed. "I may not live in the city, but I'm not stupid."

He laughed as well. "I never said you were. Well, let's leave this room, since I think we're comfortable with what it is. I'm sorry to tease like that, I'm sure you really do want a real tour of the palace."

She gave a tiny curtsey. "Actually, Your Highness, I'm finding you very witty."

"Witty. Cute." He led them out of the doors and once again into the hall. "And after you used that language on me last night."

She really had blown her cover then. "Well, you did startle me, Your Highness."

He shook his head, laughing again. "Please, just call me Isaac."

A prince had never given her that privilege before. She broke into a dainty little run as they headed down the hall. "I don't think I could ever do that, Your Highness."

"You are such a faker! I saw you last night, Miss Lake." He stopped and pointed up. "This is the royal ceiling, in case you're interested."

Yes, that was a definite cover blown. Oh, well. The Prince wasn't the one mattering right now. "A ceiling! No one at home will ever believe this!" She decided to test the name. "Prince Isaac."

He looked back at her and smiled. "That's better. Now just drop the Prince title and we'll both be happy. Oh, this room is actually somewhat important." He gestured at a door. "I'm not sure what it's used for, but I do think it's important."

Lake was sure to take notice. "Why do you not like the title of Prince?"

He shrugged. "Oh, it's a fine title for ceremonies and things like that, but really, I think it's easier for most people around here to just say Isaac. The servants and guards use the title, but then again they're paid to. Now, if you don't mind me asking, what sort of name is Lake? Oh, look. A rug. Probably a gift from another king."

She had never been asked that question before. Most people just didn't care one way or the other. "It's... my name. It's just Lake. My mother thought lakes were pretty, so that's what she named me."

Isaac nodded. "Good explanation. I think it's sweet. My mother died giving birth to me, so my father named me Isaac and I really never thought of asking him why."

The man had just announced his mother's death. Awkward. "I'm sorry... Isaac."

"Don't be. It's pretty much just a fact to bring in the story, or lack thereof, of my name."

Very practical-minded for a prince.

"Ooh!" Isaac stopped in front of another door and pulled it open. "Now this one is special. The library."

"A library?" She had seen plenty of those. Kings loved to hoard knowledge almost as much as treasure.

"A library indeed. Step inside, Miss Lake."

She did and saw what she expected to see. Walls upon walls of leather-bound books. She gave a country girl sigh. "It's beautiful." She might have stop by it later again and look at something. She did like to read.

"I know. And it's open to everyone in the palace. A lot of the servants like to come in here when they have spare time. We'll have to spend more time in there, later." And then he slammed the door.

She actually laughed.

"I know." He jiggled the handle, smirking. "I'm not the best at giving tours, am I?"

"You can't ask that of someone like me. I'm just fascinated enough by this palace."

He nodded and continued the walk. "Yes, but you seem so much smarter than that."

Odd statement. How would an innocent village girl reply. She decided to stick with "Thank-you." Simple and to-the-point.

The hall soon widened to a grand clearing in the side of the palace. Through a giant glass window that absorbed almost the entire wall Lake could see the sun still hovering over the mountains. Still early, was it? The pathway spread to the side, where a balcony overlooked minuscule doors beneath the window.

Isaac strode over to the balcony and leaned over. Lake quickly joined him.

Ah, the east gate. The guards were there. Peter, Hyrum the Bear, and another one Lake hadn't had the pleasure of meeting yet.

Peter was talking to the other two. "... and so the poor thing is just lying there, chest heaving like a pumping bellows, blood skirting over this rip in its back, you could see the bones. These children there are just crying out in terror..."

The guard with the red beard looked utterly entranced. Hyrum just stared, frowning. "And what animal was this again?"

"A squirrel," Peter replied. "That what makes it so bad."

"Or silly. I can't believe I'm here listening to you tell me a story about squirrels falling from trees before the eyes of naive children. It's sick."

"Yes, but it makes a good story."

The bearded guard laughed. Lake decided to call him the Badger.

For a long time the Bear said nothing. "Peter, you're an idiot."

Peter just shrugged happily.

Isaac laughed and glanced at Lake. "I love listening to the guards. They're supposed to be so official, but they really are fun. Watch this." From his coat he produced a small brown ball. "Hey, Peter! Catch!" He flung the ball with full force down from the balcony.

"Prince Isaac!" the Badger shouted, fumbling into a bow.

Peter laughed hard and ran forward to catch the ball. "Good throw, Prince!"

"Of course!" said Isaac.

Peter's eyes caught Lake, and he smiled broadly. "Ah! Miss Lake! I heard you were wonderful spinning that gold." He threw his arm back and tossed the ball back up.

The Bear groaned. "You do realize we are standing next to an entire sheet of deadly glass?"

Lake screamed as the ball shot past her and sprang back off the wall.

"Sorry, Miss Lake!" Peter called up. His blonde hair had fallen into his eyes. "The Prince will have me swinging if I killed you, I'm sure."

Lake glared at Isaac. "You had better."

"I shall at least have him scolded."

"Thank-you." She grabbed for the ball and flung it directly at Peter's head.

"Notice the glass," growled the Bear.

"And your point is, Hyrum?" Peter said. The Badger had grabbed the ball.

"My point is that we put the damn ball away before we're all killed."

A few moments later he had become the target. With another growl he caught the ball and shoved it into his pocket.

Everyone but him just laughed.

"He'll give it back later," Isaac said, turning from the balcony. "Thanks, men, but I must give the maiden a tour."

Lake began to follow him, but her eyes returned to the glass window. There, at the bottom, she thought she saw another figure that was not one of the guards. But when she looked again, there was no one, just Peter and the Badger talking and the Bear reading his book.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

The milling was more or less done for the day by the time Jay wandered into Rina's tavern. They'd be leaving soon, anyway, so there was little point in overworking himself. Most of the village girls were still at their chores, so he made it to Rina's with relative ease.

The relief didn't last long.

Rina stood at the bar, talking to the lone patron. A pretty, curvy girl with light brown hair that was all too familiar.

"Barn boy!" Caroline said, spinning around. "What a surprise to see you here!"

Jay froze in the doorway.

Rina shook her head and clucked her tongue. "He can get shy, young lady. You had just better remember that. Bluejaybird Miller, get in here immediately and show your manners to this nice young lady!"

He had come to let Rina know her boy was making up stories about murderers. Obediently he trudged over to the bar. Caroline smiled at him the whole time.

"She says she works in the palace," Rina said knowingly. "By the way, when is your father going to get back? He's a handsome man and I'm already missing him come around. And don't give me that look, I know a good piece of man when I see it."

Caroline laughed loudly.

Jay took a seat next to her. This was unbelievable. There was no use hiding from girls. "Did you know I was here?"

She considered the question, using the time to finger-comb her light brown hair. "Yes. Yes, I did know you lived in this village."

"Don't you have work today?"

"It's my day off. I'm not a slave. So I decided to see where you live. Bluejaybird is your christened name, I take it. Long to say."

He gave a small nod. "You can say Jay or Jaybird."

"They're all strange, but I shall go with Jay. I'm sure you're dying to know how I found you. The gold-spinning girl they're all talking about, well, Kathryn saw her and Kathryn saw you. You remember her, I'm sure. She noticed a bit of similarity in your faces and decided you were family. Was she right?" She focused her blazing green eyes right on him.

"She's... my sister." What else was he supposed to say?

"Thought so. And everyone was saying she was from a little spot called Wheat Hill, so I figured you would be here after you disappeared from the barn. So I hitched a ride down here, met this sweet woman--" she sent a smile to Rina, who was happily cleaning glasses. "And, by golly, I was right."

Silence. Jay's gaze dropped to the floor. "Well, that was very... kind of you." What was the matter with him? He could flirt, but he wasn't used to girls jumping him and surprising him like this. And she knew he was Lake's brother. What else did she know? "Why are you here?"

She leaned in closer. "Do you plan on visiting your dear sister again? Because if you come by this evening, I want you to come to the north gate. And I insist you be there."

"Er..."

"Wonderful."

At that moment Old Robert came trotting into the tavern, a bright red scarf wrapped around his head.

Caroline stared.

"Don't mind him," Jay said. "He's a lunatic."

"Robert!" Rina leaned over the bar and smiled. "What brings you here?"

Robert shook his head and punched a fist into the air. "I am no longer Robert! From this day forward my name is Tattlebarks!"

Jay doubled over laughing.

"You're right," said Caroline. "I think it's best I leave. Be there tonight, if you can. Pleasure to meet you, Rina."

And she ran out the door before Tattlebarks could say another word.

His declaration proved to be about werewolves.


	8. Night time

Maybe it was all a sick prank. Caroline wanted nothing more than to play a little joke on him. A joke of remarkable wit, cleverness, and annoyance that she and her silly friends could laugh over before shooing him off to the barn for a night's rest he didn't intend on enjoying. For years after he left they would enjoy such a memory.

Caroline didn't intend on luring him to the barn with her, did she?

He cringed outwardly. Well, so far, Caroline had not appeared. He closed his eyes and listened to the woods. The King's Forest. At least the trees were alive, if the name was not. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but his fairy blood had assured him he could be aware they were speaking, if he listened hard enough. It was like a faint rush of wind mixed with the chatter of animals--only it meant something.

"You're here."

It was like falling off a cliff. He opened his eyes and distinctly felt the heavy presence of his body around him. He jerked his head up into the misty gaze of a servant girl. Her pale, smooth face practically glowed out from the drifts of brown hair so dark it was almost black. The eyes were large and disturbingly green. Her hands with fingers almost too long for her body played nervously with the strings of her apron.

It wasn't Caroline.

Bewildered, Jay nodded, vaguely aware of how odd it must appear, sitting there like a homeless drunk. "Yes. I am here. I didn't--"

A smile shattered her face. "I almost didn't think you would come. But... but I am glad you come. I know this must seem to silly."

What was her name? Jay wondered. He had met her, sure enough. She had been with Caroline the other night. The one that hadn't talked.

"Do you remember me?" she continued. "I saw you last night. I'm sorry I laughed at you, but Caroline and Kathryn were both there, and it was sort of funny."

"Andrea!" The name shot from his mouth the moment it hit his brain. He leaped to his feet, finger shaking in her direction. "That's it! I knew you looked familiar, but I couldn't remember what Caroline called you."

The smile faded, and Andrea took a step back. "You didn't remember who I was?"

He shrugged. "No, not really."

Andrea put a hand to her head, body trembling. "Oh, no. I feel... I feel so foolish now! Caroline said you would come, and I guess I assumed she had told you about me. I didn't think... she can be so sneaky that way!"

The confusion was mounting up. "So... Caroline is coming, then?" Jay asked.

She once again locked eyes with him. The startling green was suddenly on fire. "Caroline? You thought you would be meeting Caroline?"

This could not be good. He should stop talking immediately. The sunset was going black, and soon it would be too dark for anything good to come of this. "Well, yes. She asked me to meet her here in the evening. And it's evening."

"You thought you would be meeting Caroline?" It wasn't a shriek; Andrea's voice was loud but the words screamed to be accompanied by tears.

Any moment someone was going to step out of the palace and assume he was a cad hurting an innocent servant girl, taking her for everything and leaving her nothing. Jay bit his lip. "She said..."

Andrea brushed a hand over her eyes, shaking her head. "No, no. I'm sorry. I was being foolish."

"Foolish?"

She sniffed and nodded. "I... last night, I thought you... well, nothing. But Caroline noticed because she always notices things like that. Has to, considering who she is running around with... she insisted we bring you back. She followed you to your village to bring you here. To meet me. Right now. I thought she would mention my name."

All Jay could do was stare. Now he was too warm, but couldn't bring himself to take off the coat. Funny how that was the one thing he thought of. "So Caroline isn't here?"

Andrea made the sound that Lake made when she was angry, stamped her foot, and whirled around.

Oops. "Wait! Andrea!"

"Just forget it!" Andrea pushed against the gate, which swung open after apparently not being locked, and started up the path. "I'm sorry about this whole mess!"

"But I didn't know what was going on!" He started after her. He had to fix this, if nothing else. Why did these situations always happen?

"Men never do!" she called back. "By the way, Caroline is not available for your interest, and I don't care who knows it!"

Jay fought the urge to scream. "I didn't want to meet Caroline!"

Andrea stopped. She looked like a shadow, and for a moment Jay's breath caught in his throat as she turned around. "You didn't? Then why did you come?"

He didn't even know that! "Because..." He found his hand scratching the back of his head. "Because she asked me?"

She gave a withering glare. "Figures." She resumed her march.

Damn it. "Andrea, please, I don't understand what I did!"

She didn't reply. She just kept going until she reached a servants' side door and slammed it behind her.

"Andrea!" he called once more. As if she could hear him. His voice echoed against the palace walls. Great. Now he'd have the entire guard on him. As if he needed that now. Just a poor miller standing desolately on royal grounds. Was that enough to have one's head chopped off?

And then he realized that someone was laughing. A guard stood at the main doors, a big man about his age with brown hair. "You really blew it, didn't you?"

Oh, yes. The tryst that would tomorrow be the lead rumor. Jay frowned at the guard. He didn't know how to explain that he didn't even know the girl. "Any suggestions?"

The guard shrugged, laugh fading. "I'm just saying you made my entertainment for the night."

"I'm glad someone's happy."

"You could try flowers, maybe. Now get out of here before I throw you out."

It wasn't until Jay trudged away that he realized just how beautiful Andrea had been.

**

* * *

**

The tour of the palace with Prince Isaac had been, if only to say something, enjoyable. Lake leaned against the pile of velvet pillows she had stacked up, considering the day. Watched Jay fake some gold, listened to Isaac tell her some of the more pointless aspects of the royal lifestyle. Peter had later engaged Isaac in a pretend jousting match that thankfully hadn't ended with any injuries popping from the events of stupid ideas. For a prince, Isaac was certainly one of the more interesting she had come across. At least he had seen through her play acting somewhat.

She had the room to herself, and for that she was rather grateful. Her father had been invited to some stately conversation or another, King Cherdith's weak but applaudable attempt to welcome peasant riff-raff. She had her bed, she had her cozy blankets, and a gilded cup she had stolen from dinner. She couldn't be sure, but she was almost certain Isaac had seen her take it. He had laughed over something right after that.

Yes, he was an interesting sample of royalty. If he became a reward for spinning gold, what would her reaction be? Playful excitement? It wouldn't matter. After she disappeared, Isaac would probably all find it a good joke--and maybe miss her a little.

She yawned. She had been up more or less all night. A little sleep in a proper bed would not be argued.

But just as she closed her eyes a knock came at the door.

She groaned and pushed the blankets away with a furious snap. Who could that be? They didn't want her to spin straw into gold already?

But it was only a grinning Peter at the door, who met her with a dashing bow. "The Prince has invited you on yet another exploration of the palace."

Lake smiled in spite of herself--or maybe more at the ridiculous smile on Peter's face; he even went so far as to bat his eyes. "It's just that I'm so tired from spinning."

He shook his head in protest. "No, no. Prince Isaac insists and promises that he will be surprised if he takes you away for even an hour."

She glanced back at her comfy bed.

"He also says that he can't promise ghosts, but that there is always the possibility."

She laughed. "You seem intrigued by this, Peter. Why don't you go?"

He picked up her hand and kissed it. "Because I'm not the beautiful young lady."

Lake grabbed her slippers.

Isaac was waiting at the top of the staircase, wrapped in a black cloak and looking positively frightening. Lake climbed the stairs, smile tugging at her lips even as she tried to feign fear. "So you are going to show me the royal ghosts?"

"I shall try." Isaac's voice was a raspy whisper, the way a story book character would sound to her. "I did tell you last night that this place had murders, did I not?"

She curtsied, now smiling fully. "That you did, Your Majesty."

"Then come, my fair spinner of straw and gold." He offered her his arm, and she, giggling, accepted. She barely noticed the warm tingle as her skin touched his. He started off to the right, where there was no hall, only a wall with a portrait of some old, stuff man whom was probably long dead. She even asked about that. "Was he murdered?"

Isaac shrugged. "Probably. In fact, very probably. At least the portrait proves useful. Watch." He gripped one side of the frame and shoved it. The canvas slid to the left easily.

Lake gasped, for real.

A perfectly round hole had been hidden by the painting. It was at least three feet in diameter and failed to show its ending.

"We're crawling in there?" she asked.

Isaac nodded. "Oh, yes. Yes, we are."

She stood where she was. He had to be joking.

Isaac smiled at her. "I don't want to scare you too much. One of my ancestors made this. It simply leads to some old passages made in case of an enemy intrusion. Come on." And he immediately climbed inside.

Well... she decided to follow.

The passage was much cooler than she had imagined. She had expected a reek and a stuffiness exceeding that of the portrait's original. But there was no heat whatsoever and she rather fancied she could feel a draft coming in from somewhere. Pleasant, if she wasn't forced to imagine spiders she couldn't see.

"I'm not seeing any ghosts, Isaac," she called.

"When I was nine, I could have sworn I found a skeleton in here," he called back.

A skeleton? "Thank you. That was very much what I needed to here."

"I just happen to enjoy scaring innocent village girls."

"I thought you said you didn't want to scare me."

There was a pause. "Well, not too much."

She laughed. "Does His Majesty the King know about this?"

"I have no idea, Miss Lake. And I really don't care. My father is calm about such matters. I don't think he'd mind either way. We're about to enter the Mountain Room. Get ready."

"The Mountain Room?"

"I named it that when I was little. It's an unused room that I think the servants don't even know about. I just have to find the right catch..."

She paused where she was. The floor beneath her knees and hands was surprisingly smooth. Wood, she surmised. "You know so much about this palace."

"Not everything. But I do know these passages like nothing else. Here we go..."

A blast of light met her eyes. No, not a blast, but even the infusion of moonlight through a window was enough to her. A grey patch had opened before her, and she could see the dim outline of Isaac and his hand reaching out for hers. She gratefully accepted and allowed herself to be pulled from the tunnel.

The room was utterly grey. Probably with dust. She sneezed several times, and she was not the only one.

"Sorry," Isaac said, walking to the center of the tiny room. "No one cleans in here."

On one side of the room was a long table. It was the only furniture. Around it was a stretch of grey curtains that covered every wall, save for a shred just in front of the tunnel.

"I thought the drapes looked like mountains," Isaac explained.

She laughed. "What an imagination." She made her way to the window. In the distance she could see what she imagined to be Wheat Hill. "How far up are we?"

"Third floor, I think."

"Where's the door from this room."

He gestured to no wall in particular. "Behind one of these. I found it once or twice, but I always forget where it lies. But this room... I know this room is haunted."

She turned from the window to study the drapes. In the moonlight, she could always imagine them burial shrouds. A delightful shiver ran down her spine. "It's rather lovely."

He nodded, looking less frightening in his black. "I suppose it is. You're not the first to say that. I showed this room to..." His voice trailed off.

She looked at him. "To who?"

"No one." He shook his head. "Just someone. It's not important."

She shrugged, not curious enough to press for details. "Well, thank-you for showing it to me."

He smiled. "You're welcome."

Lake reached out and touched the curtains. They were of a thick material, and powdery with dust. "I suggest we try to find the door again."

Isaac laughed. "Really? Right now? Aren't you tired? I should be taking you back to your room."

"No, I want to find the real way out of this room. Now." She got down on her knees, threw the drapes over her, and stood up in the inky, choking blackness. "Guess where I am!"

"Behind the curtain. I saw you go under there."

"Join me!"

Jay would have protested, but Isaac said "All right!"

Lake raced around the perimeter of the room, laughing. She could hear the pounding footsteps of Isaac as he did the same thing. Finally they crashed into each other, almost sending Lake laughing into the floor had he not caught her. "Careful!"

"You're right." She couldn't even see his face in the dark. "There isn't a door!"

"No, I found it. Somewhere back here." Still holding her wrist, he guided her forward. "See? Feel this."

A doorknob. "Wow." She turned and pushed outwards, Isaac at her side.

The hall was also a murky grey, but the faint effects of nearby torchlight could be seen. It was a grander hall, and Lake wondered how royalty could have missed it. But it lacked a carpet or a tapestry or anything to suggest anyone cared about it.

Then why the torchlight?

"Where are we?" she murmured.

"The old wing. Unused."

She voiced the thought. "Then why is there torch light?"

Isaac looked at her, suddenly no longer smiling. "Servants? I don't know... maybe they clean up here."

She managed a nervous laugh. "You were right, Prince Isaac. This is spooky."

"You'll be fine, Miss Lake."

She thought of the man she had seen at the window. "I saw someone today. And yesterday."

"We do have many people in the palace."

"I only saw him for a moment and I--"

Someone coughed around the corner.

Lake screamed and grabbed Isaac's arm. He sighed deeply and started forward.

Footsteps were approaching.

"Shh." Isaac gently pushed her arm way, then knelt down and took off his boot. It looked rather heavy, for a book. Then he approached the corner.

There was a scream, and then a curse.

The Bear stumbled into view, clutching his head. "Your Majesty!"

Isaac stepped back, laughing hard. "I'm so sorry! We thought... Miss Lake was scared."

Hyrum, still rubbing his forehead, glared at her. Rude, but she smiled and curtsied anyway. "Prince Isaac, what were you doing up here? This place isn't safe."

"I might ask you the same question." Isaac put his boot back on.

The Bear grunted something. "My job, Your Highness, his to guard you and this palace. I hear voices from an unused area, I come to investigate. And apparently this is my reward for such service."

Isaac just smiled. "I thank you for thinking of me.

Hyrum grunted something again.

"I feel very protected, sir," Lake said, winking at Isaac.

"I'm glad, miss. Can't have the king's gold spinner dead."

"Perhaps you would be willing to accompany her back to her room," Isaac suggested.

A guard? Lake instantly felt slighted. Then she remembered herself. She hadn't been giving her usual act. Of course Prince Isaac wasn't going to favor her by taking her back to her room! It would not look proper. Then again, neither did climbing about secret passages. But why did she care about either?

She had no right to be treating the Prince as an equal.

She was only playing. A different role, a new role. That was it.

She curtsied again to Isaac. "Thank-you for that little tour."

"Are you ready to go?" The Bear growled.

She nodded, and prepared herself to follow him, when a scream echoed through the palace, only to be cut short. She screamed herself.

The Bear ripped out his sword and ran in that direction. "Come, girl, I'll drop you off on the way!"

Would he?

But Isaac grabbed her arm, and he ran as well, always after the form of Hyrum.

They finally stopped in the middle of a hall, one more familiar. Peter and three other guards were already there, in a circle around something.

Peter frowned when he saw her. "Keep the lady away."

But Lake was curious.

"What happened?" Isaac demanded.

"Lord George," Peter said darkly. "One of your father's advisors. He... Prince, you shouldn't concern yourself with this."

But Isaac forced his way up anytime, and Lake caught a glimpse of something, red and sticky.

There was no knife, but the blood was everywhere, still spurting from the dead noble's chest.


	9. Murder Intrigue

By dawn the entire palace had settled comfortably into its gossip and intrigue of the day that would be heard in both whispers and roars in every corner--the mysterious death of Lord Orson. His body had been removed to who knew where and most of the blood had been mopped from the hall, but the man was for the day the most popular one around, at least as chattering was concerned. No one had really liked him all that much, and for some more in the know of palace politics, the death was not a surprise, but there still remained the question of who.

There was a knife, a simple dirk of unremarkable and perfectly ordinary craftsmanship, stuck between Lord Orson's ribs. And nothing else. What evidence was there to send fingers pointing or talk beyond frightened and curious tongues? Blood had ran sticky and gushing, and more than a few had nightmares that night. Who would do such a thing? King Cherdith's kingdom was hardly powerful in a worldly sense, though it held its own, and his advisors and court officials would hardly qualify themselves to anything but a jealous rage of revenge. It was personal, of course. The people of the palace were scared, for who wouldn't be? But a threat to others? No one else could be in danger, though as was agreed Lord Orson was not well-liked. Who could hate him so much? It was a question Peter, Hyrum, and the other guards spent the night trying to decide. Peter had his eyes on a few people, but what did he know?

Andrea Hill eventually had to decide that she was the only soul in the entire palace that really didn't care.

Probably downright selfish of her, she thought as she dressed that morning into the simple outfit practical for a maid. A man was dead, another spirit returned to God and heaven, if that's where fates willed Lord Orson go. Shouldn't she be sorrowful? Shouldn't she care? Shouldn't she at least be interested?

But there was no point. She stared hard into the mirror she shared with the other female servants as she brushed her hair. She had never been all that curious, though she would have expected a murder to do something for her. All the stories and plots she could be inventing in her head... nothing came out. She sighed and pulled the brush through her dark hair once more. She had always been proud of her hair. Why hadn't that man thought it pretty? Others had always thought her pretty. At least that had been what they had said. Herself... she wasn't sure. But she did like her hair: good, rich, dark, and thick.

But apparently Jay Miller only thought beautiful girls like Caroline.

Andrea slammed the brush down on the dresser, willing herself not to cry. Too bad, it wasn't working. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes. She never should have let Caroline follow Jay. Of course Jay would want Caroline. Who wouldn't? Caroline was pretty, loud, fun. She was a ray of light. She could talk to anyone! Andrea had never been that way. Going out to the gate... that had been so thrilling, but at the same time sickening. She never did things like that. It was so horrible of her. And Jay hadn't even wanted to speak to her.

The door of the room opened, releasing giggles and whispers. Andrea caught fresh tidbits of the state of the Lord Orson case. A girl named Hannah and Caroline.

Caroline would want to know about last night.

Maybe Andrea could make something up.

Sure enough, Caroline's round face appeared in the corner of the mirror, the pale gold face of Hannah looking over her. "Good morning, dearest!" Caroline sang, arm stretched up the door frame.

The hair looked good enough. Andrea turned around. "Good morning." Voice as sweet as could be.

Caroline's bright grin did not slip. The girl had to be oblivious. "How was your meeting with the gold spinner's brother?"

Hannah gave out a dignified gasp.

Andrea bit her lip and let her fingers tangle together. "It went... well."

And then the smile fail. Caroline's arm fell as she stepped forward into the room. "Andrea? You did go, didn't you? I mean, I saw you go."

Of course she had went. Caroline had practically threw her from the room.

Caroline sighed, then grabbed her by the shoulders. Andrea hated it when Caroline did such things. So... forceful. "Andrea, please tell me that you met Jay Miller and did not run off to play in the gardens. Or I will kill you!"

"I went. I didn't play in the gardens."

Caroline gave a small gasp. "Please tell me he was there."

Andrea nodded.

Caroline released her, hands clapping as she bounced up and down with joy. "Then we should be celebrating! You proved to me that you have a backbone! You were magnificently brave, my dear!" Then, like lightening, the dance stopped, smile shifting into a glare. "Oh, wait. We can't celebrate, because unless my senses are losing their powers, you aren't happy when you have every reason to be. Did it not go well?"

Well, the tears were already out. Andrea wiped her eyes again. "Caroline, he didn't even know who I was. He thought he was meeting you!" And then she dropped to her knees, crying. So humiliating. She knew Caroline would never truly mock her, but she hated crying in front of anyone.

"Andrea." Caroline's voice softened to a gentle tisk. "I... I didn't think that would happen."

"Did you even mention my name when you followed him?"

Caroline hesitated. "I... I might have forgot. But I didn't think..."

Caroline never thought.

"... I didn't think he assumed I meant me!"

Why wouldn't she? Another one of Caroline's many virtues. "He did! Caroline, I'm not as pretty as you, you can get any man you want! Look at who you have right now!"

Caroline sniffed. "As if that will ever go anywhere. But this isn't about me. Andrea, listen to me. Men are foolish and lack any sort of intelligence. Who cares what he was there for? It was your job to make him want you! And you're much more beautiful than I am!"

"No, I'm not."

"No, no, no. I always tell you not to say such things about yourself." With a twist of the arm, Caroline pulled her to her feet. "You're so lucky you have me around. All the effort I go through so you can talk to a man besides the idiots swarming this palace... well, it's going to pay off! Everything I do eventually does."

Andrea realized that she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. "What about the murder?"

"If a murderer comes near you, I'll kill him myself, dear. Unless, of course, he's handsome and I think he would be good for you."

Hannah laughed from her continued position in the doorway.

Andrea forced a smile. Caroline was never going to let this go.

Too bad she already knew Jay didn't want her.

* * *

This was all about them, William was sure of it. He paced the room he had been given, too afraid that if he dared step outside into the hall he would be caught. It was a fear that had been on the back of his mind for years, that sneaking promise that one day that righteousness would eventually catch up with their lives. That had always been a big part of the fun, granted, but besides a few run-ins with smaller law nothing had ever truly happened.

Only a king or a noble would have the power to send out a killer.

William glanced at the window, glanced at the door, glanced under the bed where a more unwise assassin would be lurking. He almost screamed when the door was flung open and Lake danced her way in.

"No new leads yet, Papa," she said, immediately crossing the floor to the mirror to check her reflection.

Probably wishing she had more ridiculous jewels to hang in her ears. "You don't seem to concerned over this, pet."

She glanced over her shoulder back at him, smiling wisely. "Should I be? According to Peter and Prince Isaac, we've nothing to be afraid of. In fact, I heard a rumor that it was a ghost. I find it all rather hilarious. Someone the other day, I can't remember who, was talking about staging a murder for Isaac. Ah, I think it was Peter. He can be so funny that way, but so can Isaac so it would be a wonderful joke."

She no doubt expected a chuckle, but all William could do was frown. He had always thought the girl had more brains than this. "You don't seem concerned at all."

"Papa, there is nothing to worry about! Old Cherdith has ordered a questioning of half the people in this pretty house. Really, I'm going with the ghost theory."

"And?"

She whirled around with an irritated sigh. For a moment all William could see was Mary. Lake had that same spirit in her eyes. "No one is else is concerned!"

"No one else in this palace is a criminal!"

Lake stared at him, silent.

William took a deep breath. The statement had blown from his mouth with more anger than he intended, but he didn't care. Lake was growing careless. He tried again. "Daughter, did it ever occur to you that maybe this killer was looking for us?"

Her brown eyes widened. "I..."

He stomped his foot into the ground. "Yes, that is exactly what I'm thinking. This place seemed too simple. A kind king, wild son, and palace staff you're getting on rather friendly with, Lake. Not to mention the Prince." He glared at her.

She took a step back. "The guards are fun. I've given them names."

Good grief. He rolled his eyes. "Have you given the Prince a name?"

"Papa, he's kind and he's interesting... what about the people in Wheat Hill?"

"Lake, we've made friends before. There's nothing wrong with making friends." He regretted his words the moment they were out of this mouth. Damn.

But it was too late. Lake had heard them, nabbed them, and ran. She beamed at him wickedly. "That's all I'm doing right now, Papa. Making friends. We'll be gone soon enough. Unless, of course, you're so worried that you want to leave today."

Leave today. Yes, it was something he had considered. "Lake, if we really have been discovered, perhaps it would be best to leave now." He didn't believe it, the safest course would be to remain where they were. A sudden departure would only attract unwanted attention at this stage in the game.

"You can't be serious. Papa, we don't even know if this has anything to do with us!"

"Lake..." He lowered his voice, hoping to calm her.

She shook her head rapidly, hair billowing around her shoulders like fire. "No! I think you're being ridiculous. We just got here. We haven't managed to steal anything but a few worthless trinkets. In spite of everything, Cherdith wants me to spin again tonight. Do you want me to see if he has wrath to ignite by refusing and running off?"

William sighed. She was right, as she often was. "But if you or your brother was killed..."

She laughed. "No one is going to die. This could be anything. Everyone says it's nothing but court intrigue. What else do you want? Was this Orson fellow Jay or yourself?"

He growled in his throat, hating the trap she had pulled him into. "No."

"And surely an angry victim would be good enough to recognize us."

"Perhaps it's a warning."

She laughed again, kissed him on the cheek, and headed for the door. "You can go back to the village, Papa. But I'll stay here and take my chances. Kings always have the good stuff."

In spite of himself he gave a small smile. "I plan to leave for Wheat Hill in a few hours."

"Good. Send Jay tonight, we'll be needing him. Though I can't imagine what sort of king wants gold after his advisor is slaughtered."

"Maybe to pay for lavish funeral expenses?"

Lake pulled the door open, grinning. "I bet that's it. Farewell."

William bid her goodbye, then sighed. He couldn't shake the feeling of dread. No wonder he had kept on about this. Foolish. There were so many other possible explanations, if he would only think about them.

He made his way to the window and stared off into the forest.

He wondered if Galdea were out there.

* * *

Lake sauntered down the hall from the room, laughing to herself. She had forgotten how odd her father could be. One little slip and he always assumed they had been discovered! Did he never think of anything else?

Not that there wasn't the odd possibility... she shook the thought away. Why be afraid for herself? A murder had happened, and it had been a long time since she had been in the presence of a good murder.

It was nearing noon, and the halls were alive with rambling and echoing voices. Sometimes it surprised how full the palace was. Servants, courtiers, everything... why couldn't a palace just return to being the home of a king and queen? Why were palaces needed, anyway? Why couldn't royalty just live in an extra-nice cottage with a spare room for visiting nobility? No one was practical anymore. Oh, well. A cottage wouldn't have all the nifty things one could find in a palace.

Besides, for some reason, a murder in a palace was much more dramatic than a murder in a humble cottage. Livestock were killed on farms. A sorceress might summon an evil spirit to make someone's cow give sour milk, but that was about as exciting as it got. But a spacious palace full of dark corners, locked rooms, and hidden passage ways... that was something that got the imagination going.

And Lake liked to get her imagination going.

Humming an old ditty she had heard from a gypsy violin, she made her way to the area where she had first seen Lord Orson, in all his bloody glory, last night. A few dark spots on the floor showed where the body had been. Lake half-wondered if the late Orson had been given to the cooks so that tonight's feast would be an unwitting display of cannibalism. She grinned.

Several future eaters of Lord Orson were already there. Cherdith himself— finally a king that was interested in what happened inside his own walls, and guards. She felt rather disappointed; she had hoped Isaac might have been there. But no, just the king and a few guards, namely Peter, the Badger, the Bear, and two others she randomly decided to call the Frog and the Kitten. The Kitten was talking excitedly to the king, while Peter listened on and the Bear crouched on the floor. Who knew what the Frog and the Badger were doing. Apparently looking important. Surely guards needed to look important, especially when bad things like a murder happened.

She almost waved seductively at the Badger, but decided against it. The spunky little country girl didn't go that far with her tramp-like instincts. Though it would have been funny to see what he would have done. Peter gave her a stern glare, and for a moment she thought he would shoo her way, but in the end he only smiled. King Cherdith didn't even notice her.

"I just was curious," she said, approaching the group.

The Frog frowned. "I don't think a woman should be around this... too frightening."

"I'm brave," she said, straightening up. "I've seen some things in my days, and if Peter doesn't care..."

Peter nodded as the Frog looked at him for approval. "She can stay, Jerome."

Lake winked at the Frog, who paled, and crouched down across from the Bear. "Interesting blood," she said.

He grunted something that sounded agreeing, but didn't look up at her.

"So," she said happily. "Who do you think killed him? Or do you buy into the murderous spirit of revenge idea?"

He sighed and finally looked at her. "Exactly why would a murderous spirit of revenge only go so far as to stab someone?"

She shrugged. "Well, I haven't thought much about it. Are you saying a ghost might do something more interesting?"

He sighed again. "I don't think it was a ghost, I never considered that possibility. I'm not stupid. Hell, I don't know even know why I'm here. No one liked the man, no one has died since, who cares?"

She shook her head. "So bitter. What if it's a spree and someone is killed tonight."

He almost smiled. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of. Last night all I had to worry about was some stranger having trysts with servant girls and you and the Prince wandering in unsafe areas."

"At least this makes your job more exciting."

He didn't bother to reply.

"Well, maybe we could dig out the blood with your sword there and take it to a witch who could look at it..." she reached over the bloody floor for the handle of his sword.

He stood up, bringing the sword out of reach. "Where did you get an idea like that?"

She smiled up at him, innocent as could be. "I was just curious, sir." She refrained from calling him Bear, then climbed to her own feet. Well, she had plenty of other things she could do before she was expected to spin.

* * *

The sun was lowering itself to its fullest blaze, bringing with it the final touches of evening. He wasn't near a window, but Peter could feel it anyway. He sighed deeply, grinning. He had just taken Miss Lake Miller to that ridiculous little dungeon room for her spinning. Straw into gold. He still couldn't believe it himself. The girl had talent. Though for the life of him he couldn't figure out why she was so excited over a dungeon room. He had suggested to the King to give her something nicer, and while King Cherdith certainly would have agreed, Lake had refused. Well, in Peter's eyes it made her all the more likeable.

He had evening post that night, and he took is place at the eastern gate. Hyrum was already there, reading another book.

"You can't keep watch while reading," Peter said.

Hyrum grunted his reply.

Peter laughed. "If someone else dies tonight, I shall tell everyone it is your fault. How would you like that?"

"I have ears, Peter. If I hear a sound, I am perfectly capable of looking up."

"What if your..."

"My hearing is excellent."

Peter laughed again, shrugging. "Really, what if Lord Orson's murderer really does return?"

Hyrum slammed the book shut with one hand. "Peter, you seem so lighthearted about this."

That was the truth. Peter took a moment to think about it. Worrying excessively was not in his nature. "Tyrone is being questioned. This has never happened. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel."

"Panicked, maybe? I was told no one liked Lord Orson, but still..." Hyrum shook his head.

"Hyrum, you've been here only a few months. You're young and naive."

Hyrum gave an irritated sigh. "Just change the subject, and I'll be sure to keep all killers away. Is that girl all settled in to do her little gold spinning trick?"

Peter studied Hyrum's face. "You don't seem impressed."

"I just can't figure out how straw could possibly be turned into gold."

"Neither can I." But that was part of the fun. "But if she has a gift, why can't she use it?"

"She's a strange little bat, that's all I'm saying." Hyrum flipped open his book again.

Peter paused, thinking how best to bring out the next statement. "But she's a good-hearted girl, you can tell."

"I'm sure she is."

"And I hate to break this to you, but I'm almost positive King Cherdith is saving her for his son."

"And I care why?" Hyrum muttered.

Peter shrugged, grinning widely. "I'm just letting you know that, so that your hopes aren't dashed."

The book was slammed shut again, and Hyrum glared at him with grey eyes. "What?"

"I've been in love, too, Hyrum, many a time. I know how it feels."

"I'm not in love with her," Hyrum said flatly.

"Of course. Love takes time, but interest..."

"I have no interest in her. She's a pest that can make gold."

Peter nodded with some understanding, but the grin was still on his face. "Are you sure? I know you somewhat, Hyrum, and I've seen you near her."

Hyrum reached for his sword.

Peter held up a hand and gave a defeated sigh. "All right, then. I was just stating my thoughts. What do I know?" He started to whistle.

Hyrum practically ripped the book open.

Peter slowly counted to ten in his mind.

"I'm not in love with Lake," Hyrum all but shouted.


	10. Love and Murder

Lake had not been surprised in the least to see an amount of straw almost doubling that of the other night towering over her in the spinning room that night. Kings were like that, as kind as some of them could be. Show them a little gold and they would greedily beg for more, happily tempt fate to tilt in their favor. Lake had chalked it all up to human nature. Didn't her family do the same thing? One couldn't get much more interesting than tempting fate.

Besides, waiting for Jay to show up allowed her to practice making straw dolls. She had never bothered to make a straw doll before... doing so was entertaining plenty. Jay had laughed at them— big surprise— and only half an hour after their creation their poor little straw guts were spilled. And transferred into gleaming dead-doll images of gold.

Prince Isaac wasn't quite up to mind-reading that joke in the morning when he came to unlock her little cell of torture.

For once keeping with her story she was still awake at that point, perched upon a pile of gold with her skirt stretched all over her knees. Not exactly proper, but certainly modest for a simple country girl. And it wasn't that she had expected Isaac to show up. One of the guards... but not the bright face of Isaac. It was almost enough to send her, still giggling, down that pile.

In fact, it was, and she found herself on the floor, bits of gold caught in her hair, staring up at Isaac's very confused face.

"More to this than just wealth, is there?" he asked.

She nodded quickly and kicked dead-doll-gold from the edge of her toes. Sunlight streamed through the bars along with a sudden and renewed appreciation of what everyone else saw of the gold. "I finished early, Prince Isaac."

"So you played in the gold." He wasn't smiling. Why wasn't he smiling? Hopefully the gold was enough to impress him. Men.

"Wouldn't you?" she asked sweetly as she climbed to her feet.

With that the first twitches of a smile threw themselves at his mouth. "I must say that the idea had never occurred to me."

"A prince that dares throw balls at irritable guards has never thought of diving head-first into the pile of gold I'm sure that you must possess?"

"Ah, yes!" He sidled further into the room from the doorway, arms folded against his chest. He was wearing green today, dark and rich... Lake couldn't be sure of the material, but she did like the way it stretched over him. "The mountains of gold and jewels that carpet our treasuries."

Lake nearly choked. He wasn't kidding, was he? "Certainly you have them."

And back to the stare of bewilderment and confusion. "Of course we do. My father is hardly poor."

That was a relief. Immediately all the images of a sham monarch fled from her mind. Damn. And the imagining had been rather fantastic. "Isaac, this is a perfect moment to go dive through the mountains of gold and jewels."

Finally he laughed. "You think they're in piles?"

Well, she had seen several ways. She took a few steps toward him, smiling as seductively as she dared. "I would love to see them."

He laughed again, rolled his eyes, and slid his arms against the wall. "Miss Lake, I'm surprised at you. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to steal from me."

If he really believed that, he wouldn't be saying it. She gestured back at the gold— hopefully it was sparkling all prettily for the proper affect. "After I have all of this?"

He shrugged. "That's just what I was thinking. Though it is beyond me why a girl of your apparent talents lives like you do."

"Like what?" She let the smile fade. Too much, too much. Why did Isaac have to be damn handsome? His very appearance had to be a hell-bound sin. "After all, my father is only a simple miller. We don't know how else to live."

"Hmm." His face became thoughtful, his lips scrunched together. "I guess I never thought of it that way."

"However, we do know enough to find it strange that only His Royal Majesty would show up to rescue me from a night of suffering."

"Was it really that bad?"

Considering all it had been was watching Jay cast his spells and then joining him in a straw/gold fight... She shook her head. "No. It's very easy, once you know the trick."

Isaac let out a low whistle. "I wish I knew the trick."

"I'll have to teach you sometime."

He stared at the wheel, stared at her, and shook his head. "I don't even know how to work one of those... spinny things."

She laughed and brushed her arm against his sleeve. He even smelled good. "Of course you don't, Prince Isaac."

He met her eyes and smiled. She shivered. "I'm afraid you might find that sad of me... but I've never had the opportunity to learn. But I shouldn't keep you in here all morning.

Oh. Yes. They were still standing in the doorway. "Don't you wish to examine the gold?"

"I see plenty of gold, Miss Lake, plenty to impress my father and I will let you know for your own comfort that I am impressed as well, though to be perfectly honest I don't think you really care about how much that impresses me."

She nearly choked. What exactly was that supposed to mean? She let her gaze fall just the slightest drop and gave a small cough. "I spin for you and your father the King."

"I know you do, and I am grateful." He deftly put his arm around hers, the very fashion of a gentleman, and led her outside the spinning room. Dungeon. Dungeon room better suited the imagination. "Lake, I have to tell you that I really don't care about the gold; you already heard all about the treasuries."

As long as he did not tell her he was keeping her around because he interested her. Good heavens, she couldn't think that. She laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I'm just happy to be awake this morning. I was almost afraid I would have my head chopped off if there was no gold?"

Isaac burst out laughing and almost steered them into a hall corner. "Who on earth would do such a terrible thing? We have gold, I just told you!"

She bent her arm slightly, just enough to increase the touch of their arms. "Prince Isaac, you surprise me."

"Oh?"

"You would listen to the thoughts of a mere peasant girl?"

"Lake, you are hardly the average peasant girl; I've seen that much in the past few days." He nodded politely at a servant girl; wonder she didn't drop her items in a royal-aimed curtsey.

If Lake hadn't been walking, she would have curtsied. The actress inside of her was demanding it. "Really, Prince Isaac? You think so?"

"Of course you're different. You can spin gold."

"And you're not interested in gold. You barely looked at what I spent all night spinning for you!"

Isaac nearly looked offended— the briefest of smiles ruined that effect. "I'm interested in gold. In fact, I love gold."

Really. Lake hid a smile. Yes, the prince boy was intriguing, and she was itching to see what else she good dig from his skin. Would that be too much? She had already failed to get him to show her the treasury— this time around. Her father wouldn't be pleased at all, but.. She would be gone in a few days, no doubt. Prince Isaac would hardly remember her, after he recovered from the gold he claimed to love. "And what else do you love?"

Isaac's arm fell from hers as he sighed.

"You love sadness?" she asked.

He sighed again, shaking his head. "Lake, you must know all about this. You have no idea how much freedom you have."

He had to be kidding. "But we're poor. We pay you taxes."

"I know, I know!" He spun around, arms out, handsome face now on her. She stepped back, afraid. "But that's how it is and it has absolutely no bearing on what I am wondering. Out there, you all do whatever! You run around in all sorts of drama and passion and wildness and I don't even know what else."

Perhaps she had judged him wrong. She stared momentarily at the floor, torn between laughing and running back the way she came. "Um, Isaac, I don't know what exactly you've heard of the going-ons in Wheat Hill, but I can assure you it isn't nearly as fun as what you are speaking of."

He sighed a third time with enough force to drain the entire hall of air. "Lake, do you have any idea what it is like to be so wildly and deeply in love with someone that you can never really have just because of who you are?"

"Uh..." This was getting odd. Her face was growing warm, and with a nervous smile she pushed her hair away from it.

But Isaac wasn't waiting for a continuation from her. "Have you ever been in love, Lake? Have you ever had that feeling where you see someone and be around someone and they suddenly become all you can ever think about?"

"Weren't you, the other night, trying to convince me of dramatic murders?"

"Yes, that was me! But can't I be both?" He laughed, shaking his head, as all the odd energy drained from him. "Goodness, I am so sorry, Miss Lake. I don't know where that came from."

She shook her head, grinning. "Neither do I. Are you like this often?"

"Thankfully, no. Perhaps I should just shut my mouth and get you to the dining hall for some proper breakfast."

Sadly enough, now that Isaac's odd little rant was over, she missed it. "Will you have time to take me on another tour after breakfast?"

"You do remember that we have an alleged murderer on the loose?"

She couldn't let him see her face fall. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"Lake." He took her arm once more.

"Yes?"

"I asked you not to call me that."

* * *

"Timber, I'm hardly seeing how this man is a murderer." Mid-morning revealed Linda

Smith, caked in bread flour, crouched outside the tavern door next to a grubby Timber.

Timber nodded fervently. Oh, the determination that could appear in the passion of a child. "He is, Linda. He is! You have no idea, but I've seen him."

Well, the boy was known for his vivid imagination. Linda couldn't as much crack a smile. "Uh-huh. And you're sure of this? You've followed a murderer around the village in hopes of seeing him kill someone and managed to succeed?"

Timber coughed.

"You didn't see anything, did you?"

"That doesn't mean he isn't!"

What was sad was that the sort of logic could certainly be argued. "Did you bother telling your mother about this?"

"She won't believe. She would just make me do dishes."

"Which is exactly what you should be doing. Look in there at your poor mama. She's so busy and overworked, with so many guests!"

Timber stared up at her. "I'm not gonna fall for that lie!"

Indeed, Rina sat behind the bar with her knitting while the lone man in the black hood drank his ale. The tavern was as clean as straw.

Linda sighed. She had baking to do, and she had never been interested in Rina Wood's barn's new tenant. The man had come, didn't show around much, as Linda was happily married. She could understand what a black cape might do to a child's imagination, but frankly she didn't care. The man was an older sort, but nothing spectacular. Boring and blonde, she thought. Boring and blonde. "Timber, William Miller is back in town. Why don't you skip along up to the mill and get me a pound of flour."

"You already have flour all over you!"

Good grief.

Timber climbed to his feet, tongue lashed tightly to the side of his mouth. "Just watch. I'll get that murderer, and then you'll know!"

Pocket knife, Linda immediately thought. Pocket knife. She had better take that...

Too late. The knife was out, a foolish little sliver of metal her very own husband had give the boy as a harmless gift. "Timber!" she screamed.

But Timber brought his hand back and, before she could grab his wrist and tear his hand from it in the bloody mess that he deserved, the knife was gone, flying across the tavern room straight for Rina's tenant.

The boy had good aim. Linda had to admit he had good aim. She clenched her eyes shut, praying the boy wasn't super talented and there would be no blood.

"Wow!"

She opened one eye.

The man in black was on his feet, a friendly smile on his face. The knife sat between two fingers on his right hand. And Timber was running toward him.

"That was amazing, mister! That was amazing!"

Rina was cursing up a storm, throwing her knitting into the air and dashing out from behind the bar. "Timber! Any son of mine demonstrating such behavior..."

But the man just laughed. "You've got a good boy here, Widow Wood."

"See, Linda? See, Mama?" Timber was all but bouncing up and down with joy. "I told you he was a murderer! Only a murderer could catch a knife! Can you do that again, sir? If I threw the knife at you again?"

Rina slapped a hand over his mouth. "I'm so sorry. He isn't-"

"A murderer, eh?" The man continued laughing, long and hard, until the blond hairs of his beard faintly wiggled. "Haven't been called that one. Makes myself seem much more interesting than I am. I don't mind."

"So you are a murderer!" Timber had managed to escape his mother.

Linda just wanted to scream.

"No, I'm afraid to say that I lack that title. I am no murderer."

Timber looked disappointed. Rina attempted another apology.

But the man turned it away. "A healthy imagination is good. Now, if you excuse me, I have some business in the capital."

"You scared him away, boy," Rina hissed to Timber the moment he was gone.

Linda, grinning, caught her eye. "If that wasn't just the pinnacle of humiliation."

"You weren't the mother."

"I have my own troublemakers, thank-you."

"He's going to the capital to kill someone," Timber said brightly.

"The murderer?"

Linda sighed. Wonderful. Robert had picked that moment to walk right in. "Yes, Robert. The murderer."

"Then I must do my absolute best to follow him!" The old man gave a salute and turned right around.

Rina doubled over laughing.

* * *

Excuses, Lake thought. Excuses, excuses, excuses. Did men have nothing better than excuses, all day long? Isaac had been the only one to fetch her that morning. Wasn't that supposed to mean something? Wasn't that supposed to mean that he was pleased by her? Wasn't she pretty? Hadn't they had a fun day and night?

She was growing silly. She shoved the book from her lap, where it clattered loudly, with a cloud of dust. Old books, such a mess! Isaac, Isaac, Isaac, was there nothing else in this mindless palace to think of? A man had been murdered two nights before, and all she could think of was a mere prince she barely knew! A prince who hardly cared enough to stroll away from his measly palace duties long enough to spend a few hours with her!

Where was Jay to smack some sense into her when she needed him?

She took a deep breath and picked up the book. No idea what it was about. Greek. Or some other odd little language like that. Logical. Not like she had been that morning.

There. That was much better. Of, course, her effort that morning had been nothing more than an attempt to get into the treasury room, where she could have summoned Jay to help her carry some of the good stuff... she wasn't attracted to the Prince for riches, the Millers had plenty of riches.

Well, he was an attractive man, there was no denying that. Was it so very wrong to like someone?

This was something that had never come up before. Of course, she had the occasional suitors— simple village boys, strong and honest, and plenty of kings and nobles liked to extend the offer of marriage.

Isaac's uncontrollable love... he had been referring to her, hadn't he?

Such a mess. Such a big awkward mess. She had come into the library in hopes of keeping off of those thoughts, but they had been working to no credible avail.

With a shriek, she tossed the book against the shelf with enough force to start a small literary avalanche on the other side of the corridor shelf.

"Ah!"

She muffled her own scream. She had thought she was alone. Oh, dear, it wasn't the murderer, was it?

"What is over there?" The voice was angry and male. Suitable for a murderer. Lake froze where she was, but too late... the shadows on the floor changed and soon enough Hyrum the Bear was glaring at her, a big hand clasped on the top of his head.

She laughed. "Oh! I didn't see you, sir!"

He was not amused. "Unless you have the power to see through parchment and wood, I don't doubt it. But I don't understand the cause to attempt to kill me."

"It was an accident."

The glare hardened. "You think it was an accident to throw a book against a shelf. You knocked over four, girl. Four!" He held up the appropriate number of fingers.

She shrugged, smile growing. This was thankfully improving her mood, an unexpected little delight. "I have a confession to make. I killed that man the other night."

"I would actually believe that if I didn't happen to be your damned alibi."

"I take it you're not finding me charming."

The Bear sighed and pushed a big arm against the shelf's corner. "You're a pest of a peasant girl that throws balls, books, and spins gold. What is charming about that?"

She laughed. "So you are going to execute me for that?"

"I'm a guard. I protect the King and the Prince, whoever else wanders these halls. I have no power in execution."

She looked past him. It would have been very funny if someone had come at that time. She could made up some little joke about his failure to guard. "But you aren't guarding right now."

"I'm not on duty. I felt like reading. Is that a problem?"

Reading? Interesting. She had never thought royal guards capable of literacy. Though he had been holding a book that day with the ball. Her smile softened. "You like reading?"

"I like it. Just can't do it with books falling on me. But I've yelled at you, I think I'll go back to it." He turned the corner.

He would be fun to tease a little more, Lake decided. She didn't seem to have anything better to do. She flipped quickly around the shelf. "What book are you reading, Bear?"

The Bear, already lifting a book, froze. "What did you just call me?"

Oops. She hadn't mean that to slip out. "Hyrum? That's your name, isn't it?"

"You didn't call me Hyrum. You called me the name of a woodland creature."

"Well..." She twisted her shoulder uncomfortable— or what hopefully looked as such. "You do look like a bear."

"No, I don't."

"You do, too."

Now he looked vaguely worried. Good. "How do I look like a bear, Miss Miller?"

"No reason. I just like to give names. Some other man is the Kitten. Be glad you're not him. Unless, of course, you like kittens. But he already has that name. But we could trade."

"I'm happy with my human name." Hyrum settled into a chair at a table and began to read his book. "Why don't you go spin gold or something?"

"The King didn't give me any straw." She plopped down into the chair across from him. Maybe she could get him to look up.

And, after only two minutes, he did. Perfect.

"Why does a girl that can spin ordinary straw into gold not live in a palace herself?"

"What would I do with a palace, Hyrum?"

"I don't know; you seem happy enough in this one."

She leaned back in the chair. It wasn't particulary comfortable, but she would have to be impressed with it. "It's the first palace I've been in."

"You're not missing much." Hyrum returned to his book.

"You don't seem happy in this one."

He didn't reply.

Lake grinned. This Bear was more entertaining that she had realized. He could only be a year or so older than Jay, but he was as grumpy as her father.

"What other names have you given around?" Hyrum suddenly asked.

Names? He was back on that? "Well, there's the Canary, the Frog, the Badger..."

"Did you give any to their Majesties?" He hadn't even bothered to look up.

She gasped. "Their Majesties? That wouldn't be very proper!"

"Sometimes I think they could use them. What's Peter's?"

Peter? Oh, yes. "Peter doesn't have one yet."

"Then I shall make up one for him." And with that, Hyrum took his book and stomped from the library.

Lake stared after him, still smiling. He was almost entertaining enough to follow.


	11. Flirtation Attempts

It was good work, Caroline thought happily to herself. If she could be her one most picky critic, she had done good. She laughed, gave the brush a final flip in her hand, and shoved Andrea toward the cracked and dusty mirror that held nothing back on the view of an absolute angel. "Andrea, my dear, you look beautiful!"

But if the girl went as far to give one of those awful frowns Caroline was so sick of, she might just have to ram the brush down her throat. Caroline had never been good at dealing with girls so big on humility when there was everything under the sun in which to show a little pride... one just did not run around with the fay features of Andrea and act ashamed!

For one terrible moment, it seemed Andrea would not be pleased. Caroline wondered if she could blame this death on someone else. After all, she had stolen the brush from one of the other girls. No one but the beautiful corpse, who of course was incapable of speech, could stand as a witness that Caroline had used that brush.

But, finally and fortunately, Andrea's wry little mouth flipped into a small and nervous smile.

Caroline sighed, gritted her teeth, and put her arms around her friend's shoulders. "At least I think you are a terribly gorgeous creature."

"Are you quite sure?"

The humility again. Who needed it? Humility only crowded away confidence. "Andrea, please show me a little gratitude! I work and work during the only break I have to make you presentable for that silly Miller boy and you have the audacity to ask me if I am quite sure. And of course I am sure!" She pulled her arms away and gave Andrea a gentle smack. "You are just as silly as him, but at least you have given me your word you won't do anything foolish like run away!"

Andrea took a deep breath and pulled at one of the plaits Caroline had done. Lots of braids, wrapped together in the most lovely manner! She had even managed to secure a bit of her secret stash of powder and lipstick. Very expensive, a gift... but Andrea deserved it. At least her smile grew a little. "But Caroline, what am I supposed to say?"

Caroline gave the floor a gentle kick that would have best been suited for Andrea, but was able to control herself. "Be yourself, you silly goose! You're an enchantingly wonderful friend, and you look like something that just wandered out of Fairyland." There was the blush she had been looking for. Oh, but Jay Miller did not stand a chance. "Yes, that's right."

"Only because of you!"

She was going to have to work extra-hared at knocking the humility out of that girl. Someday, someday. She gave Andrea a small push toward the mirror. Katherine had lent the dress she was wearing, a lovely blue color that well-suited her. "I did nothing. I only... made them more noticeable. You have always been beautiful, and it's not because of me." Oh, yes! Even more of a blush! Forget Jay Miller, every man in the palace would kill a thousand Lord Orsons for Andrea. Ooh, that might present a problem. She laughed to herself. Yes, even Hyrum himself would melt his stone heart for this girl.

Andrea gave a small laugh, fingers still pulling at the braids. "I'm still not sure what I should say! What would you say?"

"What would I say?" What did that question have to do with anything? Caroline marched to the other say of the small room and plopped herself onto her bed. "Well, I would laugh and compliment him on things with which he really had nothing to do. I would tell him about myself— just a little, until I got to know him better. I would be an excellent listener and ask him about himself. And I would be sure to touch him plenty."

The blush took over the girl's face.

For heaven's sake. Caroline sighed again and shook her head. "Not like that! Touch his arm. Men like it when you touch their arms."

"Are you sure?" Andrea quickly crossed the room and sat next to her on the bed. "Is that what I should do?"

"I thought you were asking me what I would do!" She didn't think this would be so difficult to explain. "Be yourself! You're a sweet, somewhat shy girl, but you can work that shyness to your advantage. Just be yourself! Now go and make me proud!"

It turned out that she had to all but shove the girl to the door.

"Is he even at the palace today?" Andrea asked desperately. Excuses, excuses.

"I'm sure he is!" Caroline replied nonchalantly.

"How do you know?"

"I sent him a message that his sister is in danger. A good brother would return for his sister. Now go look for him." With that, she shoved Andrea out the door and shut it behind her. For a long time she rested there, but the excitement was just building up inside of her, tingling like fireworks until she exploded with a roaring "Yes!" Then she ran across the room and threw herself back on the bed. Not hers, but any bed would do at this moment.

She had done a good deed. And when one had done a good deed, nothing felt better than to laugh like a lunatic and bash one's arms and legs into a good straw mattress. Andrea, sweet little Andrea, was finally going to learn what it was like to be in love.

And Caroline knew that was the most wonderful feeling on the earth. Possibly even in heaven. No, of course it was the most wonderful thing in both heaven and earth.

The door opened during one of her trills of joy. For one second her heart froze... she was too happy right now to have to kill Andrea.

But fortunately it wasn't her.

"I take it you sent her on her merry little way?" Hannah asked as she sauntered in with barely a glance at her.

Giggling, Caroline sat up. There was too much happiness for this little room. "Yes! And hopefully she isn't running away from her romantic destiny."

"She's too afraid of you to return."

"Good. That is how I like it."

Hannah made her way to the water jug, where she tossed water over her face. Hannah was quite pretty herself, rather delicate for a servant girl, but what did that matter? "Sometimes you scare me, Caroline, and I haven't been her too long at all."

"You always say that, Hannah." She couldn't use Andrea for her excitement all day. "Your old station must have been rather dull indeed."

"You don't know the half of it," she replied with a mirror-reflected smile. "Though I admit this place does have its shares of murders. I still feel terrible about Lord Orson."

Caroline picked herself off the bed and checked her one face in the mirror. She hadn't been able to escape long... she was due back at her duties within the hour. But she had her own meeting to keep. "We will talk later. If Andrea returns sooner than you think I would like her too, do not let her into these rooms."

Hannah laughed.

Caroline smiled into the mirror, wishing she was as pretty as Andrea, then left the room.

Good. No sight of a stalling Andrea anywhere. She slipped around the corner and headed for the older halls.

It was nearing late afternoon, her favorite part of the day— she had always felt that the day was at its finest then, its boldest, when the line between work and play was its most respectable blur.

It was also the time when he was finished with his own duties and studies.

The halls seemed to grow the emptier as she walked through them until she reached the place few bothered to clean anymore. At least the meeting wasn't in the silly grey room. But there was an old painting, somewhat dusty, of a lake surrounded by golden fields. She had always wondered if such a place existed. She probably wouldn't bother to go there, she was happy at the palace, but a confirmation of a few things would be nice.

She stopped in front of it and waited. He was almost never on time. Though, come to think of it, they never really agreed on specific times.

Her heart was spinning, and when her heart spun it tickled. She wanted to laugh, but how would it look for he to come upon her laughing like an idiot? Besides, he often joked this part of the palace was haunted. At least she thought he was joking. She stared up one hall, wondering.

Something moved at the other end.

She let herself laugh this time. "Isaac! You are actually..." She turned around, then gasped.

A man stood before her, and it wasn't Isaac. He wore a black robe, and she could barely see his face. His beard was faintly yellow.

Before Caroline could think, the silver blade of his dagger was touching the skin of her neck, and his strong hand had painfully clasped her wrists together.

"Hello, Princess Rebecca," he whispered.

Who in heaven or hell was Princess Rebecca?

Then the man frowned, and his dagger quivered.

The murder of Lord Orson...

"That moron lied. You aren't the Princess!"

Why would she be the Princess? Caroline finally considered screaming.

But before she could, the side of the dagger was whacked across her head.

* * *

"What makes you think I am in danger?" Lake demanded.

Sometimes it was funny when she was angry. Sometimes it wasn't. Jay searched his head for a decent answer. "Because you are renowned for doing something foolish?"

She tossed one of her stupid velvet pillows at him. At least it was soft. "You are going to have to find better weapons than that, sister."

"There are plenty of hard objects in this room!" She gestured at her precious little room she now had all to herself. The royal treatment. Lake would never get sick of that sort of thing.

"But I was worried about you!" Maybe that would calm her down. He had every right to be worried about her.

She dropped the pillow she had been about to throw and held out her hand, fingers waving. "Let me see that message of death and doom."

Maybe he should just leave. But he was too tired. He had snuck into the palace as sneaky as he possibly could be, and that sort of magic wasn't good on his strength. He stared at her for a few seconds, but her frown didn't budge. With a sigh he pulled out the crumpled parchment.

She snatched it away before he could even hand it to her and read it.

"Come quick. Your sister Lake Miller is in terrible danger. Do not let your father know, he needn't be involved." She looked up at him, frown now upside down. "You are an infernal idiot!"

Of course he was! The truth was that Lake could certainly take care of herself. "You would rather I let you die in a real situation?"

"I expect you to know the difference between a real situation and a fake! Do you realize this is the scrawl of a girl?"

Well, the messenger boy had said it had come from Caroline... he grimaced and smacked himself in the head.

"See?" Lake said as she always had to do. "Now get out of here before you get us both in trouble."

He could not lose his pride in front of his sister. "No, I am tired and I don't have the energy to magic my way out. I will sleep here tonight."

"Then don't magic yourself out. Apparently all the servants know about you. They won't care."

"You just said..."

"Jay, get out of my room."

She wasn't even mad. He had only said that to make her mad. Jay forced a smile— that was something he was very good at— and blew her a kiss. "Farewell, then, my dear little sister! I shall return only to spin you gold and not when you are about to be murdered."

Then, before she could have the last word, he was out the door.

It seemed there was the sound of a blue velvet pillow striking the wall.

He hadn't handled that too terribly badly, he thought to himself. A better revenge would be played out later.

But first, he had to attend to the servants' quarters. He would find that Caroline and give her a piece of his mind.

* * *

Andrea had only walked around one corner. One single corner. She had expected to make it outside to the grounds before anything... she hadn't even figure out what she was going to do!

When had Caroline sent out that message?

Couldn't a girl have time to make her away past the kitchens?

But she turned that corner, and there he was. Jay Miller, as handsome as could be, walking toward her. She stopped short, scream choking in her throat.

He stopped short as well, and for an awkwardly long time they just looked at each other.

Suddenly she didn't feel quite so pretty.

"Hello, Andrea," he finally said. His voice was high. That was supposed to mean something. What did that mean? She knew he wasn't a eunuch! He had better not be, anyway. But his voice had never been so high before.

What had Caroline told her? Be herself. Be herself. Caroline had told her what to do when she was being herself.

She could do this.

She put on her biggest smile and walked toward him. "Hello, Jay." Her voice was good and low.

Jay's eyes widened, and he still was not moving.

She kept moving. She felt so stupid, but she kept moving. That dainty little walk at which Caroline was so good. "I'm surprised to see you wandering about the palace. I hope the guards didn't give you any trouble."

He glanced at the floor. Well, Caroline had said he was shy. "I... I sort of... snuck in."

She let her voice erupt into giggles like bells ringing. "You snuck in. How clever of you!" She was almost at him. "I didn't know you were so smart. What else can you do?"

He shrugged. "I didn't think it was all that clever..."

She laughed again, louder this time. Did her laughs sound scared? What did scared laughs sound like? "But it is clever! Last time I saw you, you were only at the gate. I bet you're clever enough to climb over the gate."

He hesitated. He still hadn't moved from that spot. "I though the gate was unlocked that night."

Oh. That was right. But now the laughs were coming like a flood through a broken dam. "You are so smart to remember that!" She trailed her fingers down his arm.

He gasped.

Was that good or bad? Caroline hadn't explained any of this!

"I really like..." she started.

He moved. With a sudden leap, he was three feet away from her, staring wildly. "What is wrong with you?" he demanded.

Andrea's heart plummeted right to her toes. "What do you mean?" And another giggle slipped out. So that was what a scared laugh sounded like.

"Are you feeling all right?" Jay asked. "You don't... you don't look like yourself."

"But you only saw me twice. How do you know?"

"You're not acting like you were. Maybe you need to lie down." He was sweating himself. He looked positively sick. "And I need to leave. Now."

He was going to leave. He couldn't leave! Caroline had done it again! All desire to laugh fled from her, and they were replaced by tears behind her eyes. "No, please, I'm so sorry."

"You are?" He raised an eyebrow. He was so incredibly handsome she could hardly believe it. She felt like an idiot, mooning over him. "What are you sorry about?"

"I'm not sick. I was just... Caroline tricked you into coming here." She put her hand to her eyes. Now she remembered. Caroline had not told her to do what she had just done. Maybe she was going to be sick. Sick everywhere.

The long and awkward silence had returned.

"Why do women do these things?" Jay muttered.

She sniffed once. She didn't think she would cry, but it just might happen regardless. "I'm sorry. I'm just going to go..."

"No."

"Huh?" She looked up and, without meaning to, met his eyes. They were like gold. She hadn't noticed before.

"I'm sorry I upset you," he said slowly. "I didn't mean to. Maybe we could go outside and talk."

She sniffed again. Maybe this wasn't going so badly.

* * *

Jay's heart pounded with every footstep he took through the grounds. It seemed to his memory that he had said something about having a talk, but nothing was coming out of his mouth; his lips were all but nailed together. The sky was an arching blue overhead, and the sun and breeze were good. But it might as well have been pitch black. He could not look at Andrea for the life of him, though he could hear her plodding along just behind him.

She had been the last one he had expected to see, wearing makeup and braids like a Gypsy. She hadn't seemed like that sort of girl. But then what kind of girl was she?

The palace was shrinking behind him. Oh, he had better say something fast.

"I like your dress."

"Thank-you," she replied.

"You're welcome."

"It isn't mine."

He took a deep breath. This was hard. Normally he could enchant a girl, but after the gate and what she had just done, that was out of the question. "You look... nice in it."

"Thank-you."

Maybe the conversation would be smoother if they were looking at each other. He slowed his steps to allow her to catch up with him. "Thank-you for saying that I was clever."

"You're welcome," she said. Now she was next to him, not looking, either.

"My sister Lake would never call me clever."

Andrea laughed, a real laugh. Not like before. She even sent him a glance, which he barely caught. That must mean he had glanced at her. She really was pretty in the blue dress.

"Do you have any family?" he asked.

She gave a small smile, quaint and delicate on her face. "Yes. My father works in the stables, and my younger brother works with him."

He gave his own smile. "No mother?"

Andrea shook her head. "No, she died when I was a baby."

"I'm sorry."

"There's no need to be sorry. She is in heaven, and I never knew her. Do you have a mother?"

He nodded without thinking. "She..." How did he explain his mother? Galadea had wandered back into the woods to her people.

"You're hesitating, Jay."

He didn't want to hesitate. That meant more awkwardness. He wouldn't have minded the silence himself, but things were different when a girl was around. They always had been. "She left," he heard himself say.

"Left?" Andrea almost stopped. They had reached as far as they could go on the path, and now only the King's Forest stared at them over the stone wall.

"The woods," he said with no mind of his own. "She went into the woods."

She said nothing.

Why had he said that? What had possessed him to bring that up? It wasn't like he spent his own countless hours thinking about it.

"I'm sorry..." she finally said, very slowly. "I don't know what to say that."

The laughter came, then. Like the words about his mother, he had no idea from where they had sprung. All he knew was that he had doubled over, laughing madly, and that Andrea was staring at him as if he were the biggest fool imaginable.

And he really didn't care.

The only thing that stopped him was the approach of screams and shouts that he recognize only too well.

"What in the world?" Andrea was asking.

Two guards were going toward the main gate, walking just past them, holding between them a struggling old man.

"I tell you!" Old Robert shouted. "I tell you that he is in there, and he is able to control the rats! The rats hold the knives, and the knives find themselves bringers of death! Don't you understand?"

The guards were trying their best to be solemn, but it clearly wasn't working.

Laughter gone, all Jay could do was stare. This was going to create great gossip around Wheat Hill for certain.

"He claims to know about Lord Orson's murder," one of the guards called down, aware that there was an audience.

"He also claims to be called Lionboltshins," said the other. "By the way, Andrea, have you seen Caroline?"


	12. I Hate You

It was interesting to think that a simple tavern in a tiny village like Wheat Hill could possibly become busy. Few people believed that concept until they actually bothered to hang around and see for themselves just what could happen when an entire village became tired and in need of some good entertainment at the same time. Rina blamed it on the fact that they all simply had spent far too much time together, enough that all of their bodies had slipped into same rhythm of life and humor. Save for that of the stricter farmers, much of the work for the day was ending and the men folk were wondering in for a little relaxation before heading home to dinner, though company was hardly restricted to the men. As it was, business was rushing as it sometimes did and Rina was loving every moment of it. Stress and a certain drive were good to her; she needed them to get by. Though perhaps today, could she find the time, it might be good to stop a little. William Miller had closed his mill early and had popped in. Now that was a face with which she would not mind arguing.

Except that when every seat was taken there just wasn't time for one-on-one chit-chat. Rina bustled here and there, poured drinks and called out food. There were people to greet and people to scold and someone had managed to yet again spill something.

Every time she found a moment of silence she called out Timber's name. That boy, sometimes all she wanted to do was wring his scrawny neck, though he deserved more, like a plot in the graveyard.

She hit the kitchen, calling him name. "Timber! Timber!"

No answer, not even the laughter he thought no one could hear.

Rina swore under her breath and grabbed a fresh loud of dishes. That boy. Some help. Oh, and he made it up by doing wonders when he did help, but that did not change the fact that sometimes he could just not be found.

When he turned up, he could get the scolding of his life.

* * *

It was rare to get in a good nap. Not that Lake was terribly fond of naps. The day was went for being awake and the night for sleeping— or watching one's brother make fake gold, if that was what for the order called. She had always laughed at the princesses and noble women she had seen so often, lounging around and yawning as if they had worked the entire day. Liars. They wouldn't know hard work if it kicked them in the faces and broke their noses.

Well, her line of work had certainly changed. But she still bake bread and helped at the meal, when they weren't in the process of robbing a king. And she remembered the work, before their original mill had been taken away. The day was meant for that work.

But, as it was, Lake had not slept well— too much going on at this palace, and even if it were late afternoon and night would come near enough, she felt she deserved a nap. And the bed was so comfortable and the velvet pillows so soft... She had changed into a cozy pink robe the servants and provided for her and stretched out over the bed. No bother with the blankets, she was warm and comfortable enough. She didn't even worry about Isaac.

Oops. Wrong thought to think. She did not open her eyes, but that single name brought in enough. She smiled gently, thinking of him. She hadn't seen much of him that day, but at that moment that did not matter. He was so handsome, so funny... it was almost a pity she had to rob him. One did not meet many princes like him.

"Lake!"

Her eyes shot open along with the door. She sat up, almost screaming, though the shock was too strong in her body for that.

It was the Bear. Hyrum, that was his name. He had one hand clasped tightly around the doorknob, and the other hung at his side in a tight fist. He stared at her wildly, teeth gritted. "Miss Miller!" His voice softened, though could hardly be called quiet.

Lake threw her arms around her chest, though the robe was plenty modest. "What are you doing here?" she demanded. Her head spun. She had not been surprised like that in so long. "You... you're supposed to knock! I'm a guest!"

He looked at her, look at the door, then swore under his breath. But he did not leave. Instead, he kicked the door from his fist and marched across the room to the bed.

Oh, no...

"You can't stay in here any longer," he said simply. "I have my orders to take you into hiding, and this room is not safe."

"Not safe?" she echoed. Like anything wrong, other than a con, could go wrong in this palace? He had to be kidding. "Are their mice underfoot?" she asked.

He already had her hand and was pulling her to her feet. No point in fighting him, though for the life of her... She winked. "Did Peter's squirrels return?"

"There's nothing funny about this, Miss Miller."

"Maybe not to you, but I happen to find evil squirrels returning from the grave very funny."

Hyrum pulled her back to the door, where he froze, looking both ways into the hall. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Peter told me the story the other day. He was standing by this tree talking and some dead squirrels fell out."

"Lake, you are a lunatic. Let's go." He pulled her to the right, practically running as she tried to keep up. A normal girl might be scared, but Lake had long ago been taught to keep a dagger hidden... besides, this was only the grumpy Bear.

"Mr. Hyrum, I think I have a right to know what is going on here, if it doesn't involve squirrels. The hall was empty, scarily empty. No, a young servant girl scampered around the corner, eyes as wide as saucers.

The levity she felt ebbed. "What's going on?"

"Shh, you." Hyrum pulled her around the corner the servant girl had come from.

Peter was waiting there, his face lined with a complete lack of a smile.

Oh, dear. Something had to be wrong.

"I have her, Peter," Hyrum said gruffly. "She was in her room, just as we thought. Though maybe it would be safer for her there."

"No, this man will look in rooms," Peter replied, shaking his head. His gaze went past Lake, past the corner, into what seemed to be nothing. "I want everyone together. If there is only one, he won't strike against numbers. I'm instructing everyone to the ballroom."

Ballroom? Lake forced a grin. Humor made things better, usually. "Am I invited to a ball? I'm hardly dressed for the occasion."

Peter barely grinned. "Miss Lake, this is for your own safety."

"But I don't even know what's going on!"

"Hyrum, get her there."

Isaac, she thought suddenly. Was Isaac in danger? She whirled to face Peter. "But the prince--"

"The prince is fine. Go with Hyrum."

"But--"

No time to continue. Hyrum still had her arm and was dragging her down the hall even as she tried to begin her sentence. His already huge paces had stretched, and her own feet were beginning to hurt from their speed.

This wasn't good. Nothing bad every happened at palaces and manors. They weren't supposed to. Everyone was at peace, had been for years, and she and her brother and father were the only bad thing around. Her stomach churned, then slammed into her side. Had they been caught?

But Hyrum wouldn't be dragging her off to a ballroom had she been discovered, would he?

She decided to try again. "Hyrum, please, what's going on?"

"Can't talk right now, so do me a favor and be quiet."

How rude. She tried to pull her hand away, but he was too strong. His fingers were clenched around her hand and wrist, just tight enough to keep hold of her... she rather liked it.

The halls were dark, she realized, darker than normal. Usually the torches were lit at this time of day, to prepare for evening, but they remained bare and ashy as the late afternoon shadows pulled in. Lake bit her lip and stopped struggling. There was no one in sight, no matter how many halls they went through, only this horrible sense of dread that she told herself had to be in her imagination for from where else would it come? Her feet were bare, besides, and the carpet did not cover all halls. The bare stone was bitingly cold.

She didn't like to admit it, but she was scared.

"Hyrum, you have to tell me what's going on or I will run away."

He didn't reply at first.

"Hyrum?"

"If you run away," he said in a low voice, "You will regret it. If you run away, it will be your blood painting the walls, right next to the other girl's."

"Blood?" Her voice surprised even her, echoing in the empty hall until it was much louder than she had meant it. She stopped short, and nearly fell as Hyrum kept stomping along, her hand still in his. "What are you talking about? What blood?"

"A girl was killed, we think, not an hour ago." His voice did not change from the same clear growl. "A servant by the name of Caroline has not been seen for some time, and we just found blood in the old wing. Blood was smeared all over walls. We're sure it's Caroline's."

It was like running into a wall. Lake gasped for breath. Her skin itched, like blood was pouring over it. "You can't be serious. Does this have anything to do with that advisor, Lord Orson?"

"Who knows? We all thought Lord Orson was a fluke, the random jealousy of royal life. A mere servant girl, well, that's different."

"You get worked up over the death of a servant but not a lord?"

Hyrum shrugged. "Some people are simply more likeable, no matter what their station. I'm only doing what the King and the Prince ordered me to do."

She nodded. Of course. That made sense. Two murders in the matter of several days, that was something to be concerned about. That meant something was wrong. At least Hyrum was finally telling her what was going on. Except... "There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"

"Shh."

She thought about stopping again, though she wasn't big enough to stop a Bear. "You wouldn't be gathering everyone up..." No they, probably would, but it was the only excuse that came to her.

"Shh! I can't hear!"

"Can't hear what?" she whispered.

He just shook his head and walked faster. She couldn't see all of his face, but he looked terribly determined. His face was so... Lake didn't know how to describe it, but she lost the urge to bother him, and finally let her hand relax in his. She was with a Bear, a guard. If anything bad happened, he would protect her.

How far was it to the ballroom? That would be something to see. Every frightened person in the palace, all huddled together in hopeful defense... it was almost funny to think of.

Hyrum slid to the left of the hall and forced a door open. The library door, she realized. Not the ballroom. Why were they here? But he pulled her inside and carefully but quickly shut the door. "Hide."

They were out of the hall. Feeling rather like a lost goat she stared around the library. Shelves of books, a few tables... where, exactly, was one supposed to hide?

"Hide!" he repeated. He already had his own dagger out, the blade wiggling in the keyhole.

She darted to the furthest row. "What are you doing?"

"Locking this thing. No one bothers to keep a key to this place, anymore, so you have to use a little ingenuity."

She felt a scream rise and choke itself in her throat. "You mean he's outside? This murderer?"

"Oh, yes. Why else would I push an innocent girl into a room? Are you hiding yet?"

She dropped to her knees and began to pull books from the bottom of shelf. Like she had thought, the shelves were deep and messy enough. She rolled into the cleared shelf and began to pull the books back around her.

A low whistle came from above. Hyrum. "Not bad, not bad. Wish I had thought about it."

"Get your own shelf."

"No time for that. We're just both going to be as quiet as can be. Got that, Miss Miller?"

The shelf was terribly squashed. "How long will this take?"

"Long enough to divert him somewhere else." His voice was closer now. He had to be sitting down now.

"Why didn't you just kill him?"

"Couldn't risk the life of the prince's friend."

She smiled at that thought. The prince's friend. A euphemism, perhaps?

"Especially if she had caused all of this."

Her heart nearly exploded. She rolled back out, knocking the books everywhere.

"Quiet, Lake!" he hissed.

Too late for that. She glared up at him, almost too shocked to speak. He knew! He knew something! No wonder he hadn't kept speaking in the hall."What do you mean, I caused this?"

His gaze met hers, his brown eyes almost on fire. "The gold spinning, that's what I mean?"

She felt a twist of confusion. Or maybe he didn't know much. "You mean this man is killing people so I can spin gold for him?"

"No. That's a stupid idea. I mean that you probably already pulled your little trickery and this man was sent out to bring you back in."

Damn it. Her mouth fell open, her tongue instantly drying.

Hyrum just smiled and leaned back against the shelf as unheard seconds ticked by.

"How long have you known?" she whispered.

"How long have I known?" His smile remained, like it was carved into his face. "So you admit it. That was easier than I thought."

He knew. He had known for a long time, for all she knew. And now... "I swear, Hyrum, if you are working with this man..."

"I'm not working with him!" Instantly his grin vanished and his eyes returned to her face. "I'm trying to protect you. I have a gift for sensing things, so kill me and hate me for that. I had my suspicions something was going on, with what how you and your father were dressing and everything. I had a hunch, I tested it, and I'm right. Now answer me this: do you think this man is after you?"

Lake rolled completely from the shelf and sat up. "I... I don't know." They had gone so long without being caught...

"You have to know. An innocent girl is probably dead because of you! She was probably mistaken for you!"

The emotion switched like a lightening bolt in a dark sky. She felt her muscles tense as she let her eyes burn into him. "How dare you. How dare you say that to me! This is not my fault! I did not kill anyone, and if that murderer is right outside this room and here's me, I don't care!"

She expected him to retaliate. His eyes remained locked with hers for several long seconds, then with a growl he tore them away. "I didn't mean it like that."

That caught her off-guard. This was new; Jay would have never given in.

He sighed and put his hand to his head. "It's not your fault she's dead. It only means we need to protect you, for the prince's sake."

"What do you mean?"

His gaze dropped completely to the floor without so much as a glance of shame. "I don't mean anything."

Here she was, hiding for her life, arguing with a guard over the prince's feelings. She had a sudden urge to laugh. "Of course you do! Why else would you say that?"

"How did you make the gold, Lake?"

She leaned back against the shelf. "That's another question and has absolutely nothing to do with mine."

He still stared at the floor. "How did you do it? The gold? How is it done?"

Questions. Well, she had been asked questions before, though at the moment she was more concerned about Isaac. "Why should I answer that when you can't even look me in the eye, Hyrum?"

An echo of the grin returned as he faced her. "I ask you a third time, how is it done? Maybe that will help protect you."

"If you say so, though I'm not sure how to really answer you, in specifics." She shrugged. "It's just a strange little talent of mine. I don't know how else to answer."

"And I don't know if you're telling the truth."

Lake studied his face. She had always been quite good at reading people, it was a necessary skill that came with the territory. But a skill lost its value when others had the same. Was this guard toying with her? "Why would I lie?"

Hyrum nodded, smile widening. It was strange thing to see on his face. It made him seem almost nice. If only she could somehow remove that audacity that was spread all over him. "I didn't think of that. Why would you lie? A sweet, innocent country maiden, the dear little daughter of a humble miller. For the life of me, I can't figure out how such a lass would learn the skills. And, when she learned said skills, wouldn't buy herself something pretty to wear."

"What would I do with something fancy? It would just get ruined" She could handle this. Act no different from before. "I could show no disrespect to my father."

Hyrum blinked, head on hand, elbow on his raised knee. "It's impossible for an ordinary person to stick a handful of straw into an ordinary spinning wheel and produce gold, you know."

That smile on his face, she could show him the same one. And she did. "Whoever said I was ordinary, Mr. Hyrum?"

"That, Miss Lake, is something you are certainly not."

She chuckled, revealing her teeth. Teeth could frighten, could at least unnerve. "What do you think happens, then, if I'm not really spinning the gold?"

Damn it. She was enjoying this. But the smile wouldn't come off. Oh, well. Was there anything wrong with enjoying a little discussion? Hyrum may be smart, but he was only a guard. She was smarter. Keep the game going, let the thrill of it run down the spine.

He sighed, shook his head, and let his arm collapse— the smile remained. "That, Lake, I can't tell you. It's the same thing I've been wondering. Perhaps you're right and--"

With a shriek of metal, the library door shook.

Hyrum swore and tore to his feet, blade already out. Lake remained, peering off through the small glimpse she had of the door. "Someone trying to get in?" she muttered. "Someone innocent?"

He nodded, face grim. And to think he had been smiling only moments before. Then he dashed to the door, incredibly silent, and rapped quickly.

If it were anyone else, they would respond, Lake thought. Give their name, something.

"Who's there?" The reply came several seconds later, muffled and high. A girl.

Hyrum relaxed visibly. "It's Hyrum the guard. Who are you?"

"Hannah. I'm a servant."

"Hannah?" Hyrum stabbed the blade into the lock and twisted twice. The door sprang open, and a blonde girl collapsed to the floor, crying.

"Good heavens." Lake sprang up and ran over. Hyrum was already raising Hannah up, but the girl was as limp as a doll.

"What happened?" Hyrum demanded. "Are you hurt?"

Hannah shook her head, a weak, tear-filled motion.

"You're supposed to be in the ballroom. Everyone was supposed to go to the ballroom! Why aren't you there?"

"Get away from her, Hyrum." Lake pushed Hyrum's arms away and let Hannah fall, weeping, into her own. Questioning the poor girl was not going to help. Hannah was a small thing, hardly more than a child. "What's wrong, dear?"

Hyrum was again busily locking the door, familiar scowl having returned.

Hannah stared up at her, unblinking and utterly lost, before bothering to respond as her head dropped against Lake's shoulder. "Everything," she murmured. "Absolutely everything is wrong."

The knife fell. "Did someone else die?"

A deep shudder ran through Hannah, and Lake was forced to lower the two of them to the floor. "I didn't know about Caroline. No one had told me. I was in the quarters, I was told to stay there. Then they... they told me that they can't find Caroline and someone is dead and they think it's Caroline."

"Caroline," Hyrum muttered under his breath along with another word. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"She left to meet with Prince Isaac."

Lake almost dropped the girl.

"Prince Isaac?" Hyrum echoed. "Why was she meeting the Prince?"

For the first time since she had entered the room Hannah rose her head with evident energy. "She... I thought everyone knew. At least outside the family and the court."

"Knew about what?" Hyrum's eyes were focused like fire on Hannah. It was practically the same interrogation he had given her, Lake thought.

"Prince Isaac's all but sick about it," Hannah whispered. "He heard, too. He's the one who found the blood, actually. We all know that the Prince and Caroline are wild about each other."


	13. Into the Woods

The truth of the matter was that Jay had never known what a young man as handsome as himself was supposed to do around a pretty girl, once all the petty flirtation had passed. When that was what all one did for a maiden one might become exceptionally good at it, and heaven knew Jay liked to get a girl blushing. But it had never gone past that, and he just was not sure what to make of it.

He and Andrea had long left the garden, having slipped through a gate that faced toward the rather un-royal path to the woods. His idea, one brought on by a burning he had, of course, before felt but never really acted upon and the suddenly useful knowledge of things Lake liked to do. Andrea didn't seem to mind; rather she chattered on like a squirrel about a poem she had read that involved a late afternoon wood. Poetry. He had never really met anyone that had appreciated poetry— he didn't care for it himself, but there was something about the way Andrea's face lit, the tiny tilt of her mouth as it curved into a smile. For once, the girl would not be quiet!

Maybe it was a case of fright.

Either way, she let him lead her into the woods, their fingers intertwined like ivy— he wasn't sure when that had happened, but it made him almost sick to his stomach, though in a good way. That was new. Touching a girl before had always been a game, a kick for the two of them as he robbed the poor little lass blind. Not that there hadn't been the lovely ones, ones whose faces had remained in his mind long after he had left them, though it wasn't just beauty. There was more to it all, a certain sparkle in the eye and a dizziness behind his eyes that set his whole body on fire. Andrea, now, was like that.

The path was hardly as mysterious had would have been wildly romantically proper, the thing he had envisioned. Nature, he liked that. Probably because of his mother. Human footsteps just didn't always set the right tone, and an untamed mountainside would have been preferable, allowing Andrea would be able to make it that far. What the woods did allow was suitable enough, and it pleased Andrea. Small pines, powerful in scent, quaking aspens set in as the contrasting white. The path was well-known, well-traveled, and cozy enough in its way. Wild flowers in a rainbow of colors littered the side.

"I love flowers," Andrea said simply. She halted, taking Jay with her as she bent to scoop up what she could. "We... we like to decorate our quarters with them. Until they die and rot all over the place, but I suppose that can't be helped because no one will agree about drying them. Do you like flowers?"

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. The girl sounded like Lake, and he hated the idea of being attracted to someone so very much like his own sister. Smile and nod, he thought. Smile and nod and agree with everything she says. Besides, she was cute, picking flowers like a child. "I love flowers, as well."

She smiled to herself as she tucked the long stems into her pocket, flowers peeking out. "Liar. I have a brother, I told you. Men hate flowers."

This was different. Not so shy.

"No," he protested, tugging her hand as he continued. "I really love flowers. I know that most men don't care about them, but I'm different."

"Then tell me the different kinds, sir." Her soft voice had grown in volume, and something new was twinkling in her eyes as her fingers tightened around his.

"I..." He did not have the slightest idea. Half-fairy he may be, but he had never actually bothered to learn the names of things. Plants were... well, they were, and that was all there was to it. "Things so beautiful should not bare the weight of names."

She laughed, her other hand reaching up to brush the fingers against leaves. "We made a joke, you and I."

He tilted his head to the side. Jokes. Yes, he knew jokes. He had to know them, to survive growing up with Lake. Jokes were what girls loved. He laughed to himself. He had not yet had his chance to be the handsome, charming stranger he was usually. "You know, Andrea, I would not have expected this side of you."

The first flash of fear jolted through her eyes. "What? You don't like it?"

The girl was going to take off like a terrified deer, just like the time by the gate. He sighed, and swung their hands. "What does it matter what I like?"

"Because--" Her face tightened with a momentary glance down, as if to search for more flowers.

Jay wished he could better read emotions when flirtation was not at hand.

Then Andrea's face shot back up, fear gone. "Because, Jay, I never act like this! Not usually! I feel absolutely mad, crazy, and I don't know how else to explain it."

He felt he should say something, but he didn't know what. Didn't matter; this was interesting enough to watch. And rather exciting.

"It's Caroline's fault," she continued. "Caroline mostly, though the other girls helped. You wouldn't believe the drama that goes on inside the servants' quarters. Like we don't have enough to do, which we really don't so I should not say such lies. She will flaunt herself at any man she wants, even if she doesn't want him. You know this well enough. And I love her dearly, she is the greatest, kindest person in the world. But I'm not like her, and she can't understand that. So she inspires me, enchants me, to do something like this."

"And what would you normally do?"

She sighed deeply and glanced up at him with her gorgeous eyes. "I don't know. Pine away in the corners like I always do, imagining you and I together. Not saying a word, not doing a thing."

He laughed. He hadn't even felt the laugh coming, but there it was and there were his arms, fingers pulled from her hand, around her. Oh, yes. This is what he wanted.

She gave a small cry. "Jay!"

"I don't do things like this, either," he replied. "I'm usually terrified of girls."

"Terrified?" Apparently that was not an answer she had expected, and that pleased him. "Are you terrified of me?"

Considering the way he felt right now? He gave another laugh. "Absolutely."

He had never kissed a girl in the middle of the woods before. It was rather nice.

* * *

She had to be joking. Hannah had to be joking, playing a game that servants played or something. Palace gossip, something to be found in every household big and small— except for the palace part. But palace meant drama, and this was certainly what it was. Rumors and lies that were not meant at all to crush her like they were doing now.

Hannah still looked sick, still shaken from her apparent run. And from what, exactly, had she been running?

Lake then fought the urge to slap herself, always a good solution to when one was being ridiculous. This was not the time or the place. Caroline was possible dead.

One could not be jealous of a dead girl whose blood was splattered all over royal walls.

She deserved it, the slut.

Though any other time this would have been hilarious, perhaps romantic. Like a fairy tale. A common servant girl sharing a romance with a royal prince.

Hannah was still sniffling into her shoulder, and all Lake could give her was the mildest pat.

She could not believe this. All those dreams about Prince Isaac... useless. At least she knew whom had been the subject of Isaac's tirade.

She had been such an idiot.

No. Girl was dead, a murderer was on the loose, a poor girl had been frightened. She couldn't think about a man she barely knew.

Hyrum sighed and stared at the door as if were something possibly worthy of more interest than a door should be. What had he known about all of this? And... was that a smile? Before she could be sure, he had turned with a solemn frown and a gaze meant only for Hannah. "So... she was meeting His Highness. I'll bet. And that was it. And how long ago was that?"

Hannah shrugged and released herself from Lake's embrace. "I don't know. Not an hour ago."

"Assassin. Probably hired by the king. Didn't like seeing his only son consorting with a servant girl."

Hannah's tears froze, and Lake just stared. A solution for the entire problem right out of the random blue. "What?"

"You heard me."

Ah. Another joke. Or another side of the same one. "That's it? Case solved?" Maybe this was her father's doing. Maybe William had set up the whole game to tease her. Jay had to be involved, if that were the case. No, neither of them would bother going to the trouble of something that did not concern money.

Unfortunately, the guard's face was dead serious. "It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"You don't think royalty can't marry commoners, do you?" Hannah asked softly.

"No, I think they can, but I also think that most won't," he replied flatly.

Of all the stupid things she had ever heard... Lake sighed. "How does that fit the murder of Lord Orson?"

Hyrum did not reply to that. His face tightened as he turned back to the door. "I still stand by my theory. At least it wasn't Little Miss Lake being killed for her gold-making skills."

"But you were just accusing me of that!" She knew that Hannah was staring at the both of them as if they were mad, which of course they had to be, but Lake really did not care what a some servant girl thought.

"Lake, you do realize that a friend of mine is dead. I don't want to discuss this anymore. I've been a coward. I got you to safety, now I need to go after her. Or her murderer, to be more precise. With any luck, she's still alive."

And thus able to explain her affair with the prince. Lake gritted her teeth. Truthfully, her heart wasn't broken— that awareness was something that was clear, but she didn't care. Emotions had rushed at her. What else was she supposed to think.

A mere guard was onto her secret. Isaac was not madly in love with her. His lover was probably dead.

Well, Hyrum was only a mildly handsome guard that had no power. She hadn't had the time to fall madly in love with Isaac. And, well, there was a murderer on the loose.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

Hannah gasped, and Hyrum muttered something under his breath. "Why?"

"Because I'm more useful than a girl who spins gold," she replied, practically pushing Hannah out of the way.

"You're staying right here, both of you." He slammed the door.

Lake looked at Hannah. The girl was just as terrified as when she first entered the library. A wispy little blonde thing with the face of an angel. No wonder she was terrified, the silly thing. "Are you really going after the murderer?"

Either that, or Isaac to kill him. Lake just smiled. "Of course. Care to join me?"

Hannah shook her head. "I'm sorry but... good luck!"

Hyrum had failed to lock the door.

* * *

Rebecca hated acting so helpless. It wasn't her, not really, not like everyone thought. Even her parents hadn't noticed. No, not an even. Her parents had always been the last one. The mighty and powerful king and his beautiful and gracious queen. Never any time for their children, least of all their only daughter.

Sometimes she wondered if she were supposed to miss them, where she was out here. Well, she wasn't, and she wasn't going back there anytime soon. Miles away, safety, and no ancient lord to marry.

Rebecca rubbed the last of the tears from her eyes as the gold-spinning girl shut the door behind her. Nice girl, she thought, though had went a little mad over the subject of the Prince and Caroline. Did the girl actually think a prince would want a commoner, even if she could spin gold? She smiled to herself. Yes, that was something she herself believed. Love for love's sake, not for money. She had been most thrilled when the truth of Caroline's romance had reached her own ears. Would that she had that for herself!

She turned to the books behind her. She knew how to read, had read from an early age. That was something her parents had insisted on, a tutor and a governess. A young lady should be educated. It increased the marriage prospects, and a variety of marriage prospects could lead to many an advantage. She had always had a passion for accounts of other lands, histories filled with excitement. Excitement. Maybe that was what had inspired her to runaway in the first place.

That and the rumor that Lord Samuel murdered his brides.

And she believed that. Anyone who would send a murderer after a girl would do anything.

Caroline. She felt a bite at her heart. She hadn't meant for that to happen, but what else was she supposed to do? Lord Orson had vowed to protect her, he had known the risks.

Was she really becoming so heartless as her parents? Not a pleasant thought. She pulled a book off the shelf and opened it. An account of the royal family history. Boring.

It was probably safe to go back outside, though she wouldn't do so until someone came for her. They couldn't stay cooped up forever, none of them. She had seen Prince Isaac's face. Heartbreak. Fear. It had been painful to watch.

If only she could stop shaking. Someone knew she was here.

How long could the guise of Hannah last?


	14. Fire

In truth, Peter had to admit that he rather enjoyed the dread of danger. He doubted he would ever admit it; after all, he was Peter, teller of stories, the trickster. Such a man was not to love cold-blooded terror, to find it pleasurable. Well, he didn't find it 'pleasurable', whatever that word was to mean. But King Cherdith's realm was a peaceful one, and days and days and years and years of only the problem of mischief took their toll on one's mind. He was a soldier, a guard, trained to protect. It was in his blood, and the rush of power through his muscles was terribly exhilarating, like fire inside of himself. A lifetime of laziness did not suit him. But Lord Orson was hardly cold in his grave and the servant girl Caroline was missing, possibly dead. Well, he still felt the protector. Discovering what happened to Caroline was his mission.

He was practically thinking a fantasy. He was not the hero of this story, he was a head guard devoted to protecting those in the palace.

His mind, at least, was ready for a happy ending.

He moved silently down the hallway, aware of every slight sound of mouse and footstep. His hand, now sweaty, gripped the handle of his sword. Years had passed since he had last used the sword for its true purpose, but hours of practice and playtime had kept warm his skills. Hopefully. He stopped once to focus entirely on listening. Nothing.

This was the northern hall, a well-used spot of the palace. Any other given time it would have been a most crowded venue, and the clear emptiness was eerie. Everyone had been instructed to remain in the ballroom, save the guards.

Peter hoped he wouldn't kill the first of his men to jump from around a corner.

His men. Where were they? He should have avoided the hypocrisy and waited for one of the boys. It was stupid for anyone to be alone at a time like this, even a guard. Though he was sure they could hold their own, even Hyrum. No, certainly Hyrum. He had appeared from nowhere only a few months before, and already he had proven himself to be everything. At least, he had proven himself in all the available opportunities. But he had shown chivalry when he insisted on going after Lake Miller.

Despite everything, Peter allowed himself a small chuckle. Hyrum was a stone on the outside, but he certainly had his soft spots.

He took a deep breath and resumed walking. Daylight dimmed through the windows with approaching sunset, and the occasional flaming sconce appeared all the brighter. Definitely eerie.

Peter closed his eyes for a moment. He had heard once that stopping one sense would increase the power of another.

He heard something, distant.

He almost smiled. This was getting exciting. Opening his eyes, he picked up his pace. The hall would soon branch out into various corridors. He had to select the right one. His sword readied itself.

The man jumped out with a pounding scream, metal glinting in the faint light. Peter pressed upwards with his blade, a screech accompanying the clash of swords, just enough deflect the blade past the face of his attacker.

His sword could do no further damage. In fact, Peter almost dropped it. "Your Majesty?"

"Peter?" Prince Isaac's face was red, a rather recent blast of color in an otherwise flushed face. His sword actually did hit the ground as his arms fell limp to his side. "I almost killed you."

As if the Prince had enough sword play to do that. Peter smiled inwardly. Then again, Prince Isaac was better than many. "I also was ready to use my sword, Your Majesty."

That was when the first blast of humiliation hit him. It would have been a very bad thing to kill King Cherdith's only son, and he and Prince Isaac were on friendly terms. "Forgive me, please."

Isaac nodded listlessly, his gaze on the floor. "No, you are fine. I just... I just need to catch my breath. I know you're a wonderful swordsman, Peter, so I fully recognize my brush with death." He forced a smile. Anything coming from Prince Isaac's face at that time had to be forced. He seemed more of a ghost than a living soul.

"That would have been a most shameful thing, my Prince." Peter took a deep breath. "You're supposed to be in the ballroom. Your father is there, and he insists upon your presence. We can't protect you if you're wandering around out here."

The first true expression arrived, and it was one of annoyance. "I would hardly refer to what I was doing as 'wandering', Peter. I have just as much reason to be out here as you do, perhaps more."

Oh? That was an interesting reply, and Peter had his suspicions ready. "Your Highness, why do we lock everyone up at the death of a servant girl and yet do next to nothing when a member of the court is killed? I mean, besides the obvious fact that the death of two individuals from entirely separate classes is something of a higher threat, but I think you have higher reasons."

Prince Isaac's mouth twitched upwards in a half-smile. "You know me too well, Peter."

"Years."

"Caroline's body has not been found. That means there is still hope she's alive." Now the Prince's eyes were locked on Peter's own, demanding that his statement was nothing but the entire truth. "It is my fault, whatever has happened to her. We were to meet, as I'm sure palace gossip has let you know. If I had not arranged this meeting, she might have been safe."

And that confirmed his Peter's suspicions. It was almost worthy a laugh, had the situation not been so grim. He leaned back, realizing that the entire time one half of each of his ears had been listening for any one else and had found nothing. "We have looked everywhere for Caroline."

Prince Isaac did not blink. "Not everywhere."

"A stranger would not know of the old passages."

But he just shook his head. "I insist they be searched. I will do so myself, if I must."

* * *

"So you gave all the gold your sister Lake spun to the poor and to the homeless? That is remarkably sweet." Andrea leaned her head against Jay's shoulder. Evening was nearly upon them, and they had not yet returned to the palace. Jay wasn't sure when Andrea was expected back at her duties, but it really wasn't a question that bothered him. They had found a fallen tree, riddled with moss, that made the perfect bench among the standing trees, tall like soldiers. He could stay there forever, it seemed, with her leaning against him, smelling so wonderful.

"Yes," he replied. "It seemed the only right thing to do. My sister had been blessed with a gift, and everyone knows that when a gift is given it should be used for the benefit of mankind."

She smiled gently. "How lovely."

Sadly enough, he didn't feel too much guilt in lying to her. A small part of his brain told him that he should feel guilt, enough to drive all the truth out. But it just wasn't strong enough a desire. People were people, and it wasn't always the most brilliant idea to go let the world know if one was a half-fairy. The story that Lake was the spinner had worked for years and Jay saw no reason to change it, even if it were a lie. People just weren't always accepting of the idea that one might be a half-fairy. His father had told him to never tell anyone about himself, and he agreed. The gold-spinning illusion had always been a family secret, and it was best that it stay that way.

Besides, soon enough he and his family would be gone, taking a fresh load of treasure to their stash in the cave, and Andrea would be nothing more than a fond memory. He wasn't sure if he liked that idea too much, but it was the truth, and he accepted this. He barely knew Andrea, after all. But he did like her, what he knew. He smiled and put his arm around her shoulders, breathing in the scent of her hair. "And now I guess you know the family secret."

Andrea shrugged. "I guess I do, though I'm not sure if I would call it a secret. Word spreads quickly around the palace, and we all knew that Lake Miller was spinning gold for King Cherdith. One can't keep that a carefully guarded secret, Jay Miller."

"I suppose you're right." He planted a kiss on her forehead.

She giggled and brushed his face away. Her fingers tingled on his cheeks. "Do you have any magical gifts, Jay?"

If that wasn't a question he had heard before. Sometimes all that was known was that William Miller had only a daughter, and sometimes a son was discovered wandering around the palace. It didn't matter, but on the latter occasions that question was sometimes pressed. If only they knew. "No, I'm afraid I don't have any." He was half-tempted to perform a small trick for her, something to make her laugh, like make a flower appear in his hands.

"How odd that only Lake can spin gold."

He laughed. Somewhere a bird chirped mirthfully, as if it had been listening in. "You find it odd that only one person can spin gold? Do you think that everyone can?"

"You twist my words. No, it is a miracle what she can do." She sighed and sat up, away from his side, though her hand lingered upon his own. "I wish I could do something like that. Not spin gold, though it would be useful to have some nice things. But we get by all right, my father and brother and I, better than many and I am grateful for that. But..." She sighed again and looked up into the graying sky. "I wish I were special. All the other girls have their gifts. Caroline is beautiful and charming, Kathryn isn't afraid of anything, and Hannah looks like a veritable angel." She grinned shyly. "Veritable. Do you like it? I hear the king using it. It has something to do with truth, I think."

Other people would have felt a twinge of guilt at that, Jay mused. But she was only showing off a vocabulary. So many other village girls were no where nearly that clever. "I love it. I think it's a great word."

"I do like to learn," she continued. "I try to read, when I get the chance. Everyone does. Can you read?"

Of course he could. Mary had taught Lake and him both from the start. "I enjoy reading."

She nodded, apparently glad. She looked so beautiful when she was happy. "I'm afraid I just don't enjoy it as much as other people do. Do you see what I mean? I'm just a quiet little servant."

He squeezed her hand. She had to be joking with him. "How can you be a quiet little servant girl when you talk so much?"

She met his eyes boldly. Surprising. "Jay, you talk much more than I thought you would, so I think it's hardly proper you say such things. The moment I first saw you that other night, I thought..."

Something in the trees rustled, cutting Andrea off as her eyes turned upwards. "What was that?" She didn't seem afraid, only surprised.

Jay glanced up as well. The leaves still wriggled faintly, energy remaining from what passed through, but that was all. "A racoon, perhaps?" he suggested.

Somewhere above a branch cracked. The sound was too big for a racoon or another animal.

"I've never been out here in the dark," Andrea whispered with the first hint of fear. "Not in the woods, and I know it isn't yet dark, but it's strange just the same. Do you think that was an animal?"

Jay shook his head. No, he did not think it was an animal.

She hopped from the log, hands clasped in front of her. "I should be getting back. It's terribly late and I probably have things I should be doing and Caroline is probably so worried."

But he didn't want her to leave, not yet. He pursed his lips and followed the shaking leaves. "That's not an animal, Andrea."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

He shook his head once more and hopped from the log with as much silence as he was given, which was plenty. Like a cat treading, he slipped through the trees, back to main path, Andrea at his heels.

More branches cracked, the sound echoing like ripples in a pond. One in particular was followed by an even stranger sound, a muffled scream. Human.

He walked faster.

"Jay," Andrea whispered, with nothing to follow.

Something was definitely above them, watching.

Then, with a horrible crack, two large portions of an aspen limb shattered to the ground, along with a young boy with skinned elbows. The boy scrambled to his feet, face red.

Jay almost laughed. "Timber Wood, you had be scared!"

"I didn't know it was you, Jay!" Timber stammered. "I thought it was the murderer! I was trying to get away, but then I fell and..."

"You were trying to run away through the tree tops?"

Timber shrugged. "I didn't think anyone would look up there."

He did have a good point. "But you sure made an awful lot of noise."

Another shrug. "Please don't tell my mama. She'll be furious that I'm out here this late. I didn't tell her where I was going, and I thought that..." His eyes fell upon Andrea. "Who's this?"

Andrea smiled warmly. "I'm Andrea, I work at the palace. You had me scared, as well. You're a very scary little boy."

Bad idea. The compliment puffed Timber up to the size of a pony. "Yeah, well, I try my best."

Rina Wood would not be at all pleased. "Your mother doesn't know you're here?"

"No. If I told her I was going all the way to the palace, she would have never let me leave!"

Jay rolled his eyes, though he understood perfectly that logic. "When did you leave?"

"Earlier today. There was a quiet spot at the tavern, so I headed out."

No, Rina would be worried sick, enough to kill Timber. Why did this have to happen while he was with Andrea? With one quick motion he grabbed the boy by the arm and threw him, kicking and punching, over his shoulder. "I'm taking you home." He didn't think it would be too much trouble; he could run back to Wheat Hill and back in very little time. Little pest, coming all the way up here.

"Put me down!" Timber shouted, sending a kick almost straight into Jay's stomach. "Put me down!"

Little brat. "No, I'm taking you home to your mother."

"But I know about the murderer!"

The murder of Lord Orson. Oh, yes. "Andrea, I'm sorry, but he belongs back at his home."

She nodded, understanding.

"But I know about the murderer!" Timber repeated loudly. "If you take me back home, I can't tell you about the murderer! And the girl knows!"

They had all told him that Timber was known for making up stories. "How could you possibly know about the murderer?"

"I saw him! Not an hour ago!" The boy was twisting now, desperate to escape. But Jay was no weakling. "He's a man. He's from another kingdom, and he was sent here to find a girl. A princess that ran away. But he found the wrong one, and now he needs to find the right princess."

Wow. What a story. "And what do you expect to do about it?"

"Put me down!" Timber screamed. And with that, a spark of flame hit the back of Jay's shoulder.

With a yelp, Jay let Timber slide to the ground. Andrea was already beating the flame out of his shirt.

"What was that?" she demanded of Timber. "You held no matchsticks, and yet I saw the flame appear... there, Jay, the flame is gone. But it came from nowhere!"

Timber stared up from the ground, face tight with anger. "I don't make fire a lot, but I can do it. I can make other things, too."

Jay stared. How could a boy make fire from nothing?

"And you can do it, too, Jay."

Jay shook his head. "I can't make fire. Not without tools."

"But you do other things," the boy insisted. "The wood chopping... most of the time you do it yourself, if the girls are watching. But I've seen you do it other times. You just talk to the tree, and the wood splits itself."

A slow horror began to fill Jay. No one was supposed to have seen those times. He shook his head. "Timber, I don't know what you think you saw or anything else, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

Face unchanging, Timber held up his hands. Flames sputtered from his fingertips. "Sometimes I help cook. And I think you've been doing stuff at the palace. I can sneak up here, too, just like you. I found out all about the murderer."

"How do you make that fire?" Jay demanded.

Timber's face finally broke into the familiar smile. "My grandmother was a fairy, and I think you have fairy blood, too."

"What?" Andrea asked. "Jay, is this true?"

"He's lying," Jay said at the same time that Timber gave an exuberant "yes". He turned to her, expecting her to see this as all a joke. But her eyes were serious.

Why did women become so dramatic and serious over everything?

"Andrea," he said. "He's a child. He's making up things."

"Am not!"

"You can do magic," she said softly. "I believe this boy. You can do magic."

Well, was it so horrible if she knew his secret? He took a deep breath. "Yes, I can. You've found me out."

"You admitted it!" Timber cheered.

"You lied to me!" she said, voice suddenly louder.

"I didn't lie!" he replied. "It's my secret!"

She shook her head. "I told you all about how I wanted to be special, and I asked you about your sister's gold-spinning, and you didn't say one word about yourself!"

That was true. He shrugged and gave a sheepish smile. "I didn't want to scare you."

"Did you ever do magic on me?"

The question took him back. "Why would I do magic on someone?"

Her beautiful eyes narrowed. "You can't answer with another question," she hissed. "I... I don't know how I feel about this. I'm going back." She turned and ran down the path.

"Sorry," Timber muttered.

Jay thought going after her, but he was too angry. Why was she so upset? Only somewhere deep in his mind did he recall that Timber had said something about a murderer.


	15. A Little Truth

Straw was a smell Caroline preferred to associate with her childhood and perhaps a few romps in the palace barns. As a child, straw held a surprising fascination of playtime and fantasy, and in the latter incidents no one cared about anything. There was little good about drudging one's self from sleep only to find the horrible stench of straw and the scratchy stuff itself burrowing its way down one's throat. Especially when her head pounded like it did. She instinctively coughed and sputtered and in those processes drew another shard of straw into her mouth. It tasted like those squirrels Peter was always telling stories about. She made another, and this time successful, attempt to spit it out, though its brothers still stung at her face. She didn't dare open her eyes. Get those scratched out by straw… ha.

Caroline lay on an odd position between her side and her back; not comfortable. If that bastard with the knife had expected a little romance in the straw, she highly doubted it happened with the way she felt—at least the way she would have wanted it. Oh, heaven and hell, no. No. No. Tears of horror seeped from her eyes, and she could feel it mix with the dust on her cheeks.

Damn it, she was not a whore and she would never let a man make her one. She didn't feel any different. That new fantasy was a nightmare and nothing but. Hopefully.

She wriggled her shoulders, only to find her hands squashed tightly against the middle of her back. Her ankles, as well, refused to separate. She could even feel the rope. Poor quality, dry and itchy—not that she knew rope.

If he came back for her, she was his.

But why the hell had he not bothered to gag her? She had to get out, and that just might require screaming.

Unless he was in the vicinity. Maybe he had gone off for his precious Princess Rebecca, whoever the hell she was.

Where was she, anyway? Like another blow to her head, the terror flew out of her to make room for an overwhelming tide of curiosity. She continued to wiggle and roll. She clearly wasn't secured down, and after a dozen rolls she managed to shove her head out of the straw. Her eyes fell open to see nothing but vague shadows and plenty of straw. It was enough to show her this wasn't a palace barn. She waited as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The place was still, save for the soft chatter of some tiny animal—no doubt Peter's squirrels. The door was open, just a crack, and moonlight flooded inside. Beyond that, there was more noise, the talk of people.

Caroline prepared herself to scream when the door flew open.

"I'll look in here one last time, Rina. He might have fallen asleep in the straw, and I don't think anyone combed all the way through it."

It was a man. In an instant the terror came back, accompanied by a direct command not to scream. One that her body failed to obey. Every power in her lungs collapsed into that single scream.

The man made an exclamation of his own, and she vaguely realized this was not the man with the knife. It was someone different. An accomplice.

Her heart ached for Isaac. Why wasn't he here? He was supposed to be protecting her.

"Timber?" came the answer. "No, you're not Timber. Who in Heaven's name is up there?"

She collapsed forward onto her knees, the tears running out with sobs. "Oh, thank-you. Thank-you so much."

A ladder bonked against the loft—she realized she had to be up in a loft. "My name is Adam. Who are you?"

She could see his face as he scrambled over the hay toward her. A handsome man, quite older than her, not that such things mattered. But he looked kind. Someone she could trust. If only she could stop crying.

He gripped his hands gently around her shoulders. His eyes bored right into hers. "Are you all right, miss?"

She nodded, then shook her head. "I… I… My name is Caroline. I'm a servant at the royal palace. I… I don't know how I got here. There was a man with a knife and he hit me and I woke up here." A few sentences took more energy than she would have thought.

"You can't be serious." The man called Adam continued to study her face. "You were here the other day, weren't you? I recognize you."

She nodded and hiccupped. "I was. I came to see Rina Wood. And Jay Miller."

"Bluejay is at the palace now. You say you came from there. And Rina Wood… her boy has gone missing."

The bastard with the knife probably had the boy. And here she was, back in Wheat Hill, sitting in a loft, her hands and feet bound.

Not for long. Adam whipped out a knife and cut her free. "Come on," he said warmly. "My wife will take care of you. Don't worry about a thing, Caroline."

* * *

Lake was very successful in finding Hyrum, if she did say so herself. The man certainly didn't move very fast, for all his claims of tracking down a murderer. She smiled as she saw him, trudging up a small servant corridor, knife all out like he was some big bad guard. Which he was.

A guard that asked a few too many questions.

Her better instincts told her to return to Hannah in the library. Find Jay, find her father, grab some treasure while everyone was worried over Caroline's murder, and leave. If all went well, she would be considered nothing more than a vanished murder victim. And Jay and her father could say they left in account of grief.

But never had she met anyone so cynical about the gold. And that bothered her.

Or maybe it was Hyrum himself. No, never himself, he wasn't worth it. Handsome, admittedly, it a boorish sort of way; she wasn't about to deny that. So what if he intrigued her. Was there anything wrong with finding someone fascinating? And smart enough to be suspicious. Not that he would ever figure anything out.

And if she did follow him, and the murderer did pop out, he would protect her. He had said as much.

The halls were so empty, though, like death. A footstep in an empty room could be as loud as thunder. And his ears had to be open, scoping for a murderer. She wasn't the fairy child, had never claimed to be. She certainly couldn't creep so delicately.

What a lousy guard. Why had King Cherdith hired the man? Still, Lake remained at a healthy distance behind him. Yet was it a sin to admit she enjoyed the little game?

Then, to her surprise, Hyrum began to sing. It started as a little hum, a search for notes, but grew from there—slightly, never going much above a whisper. She didn't recognize the song, not that she could hear the lyrics. But his voice… it was a good voice, a surprise coming from someone like him. It was an upbeat tune, for a whisper, quick and jaunting and hardly suitable for tracking down the murderer, if Hyrum were trying to create an epic of his adventure. And the voice…

She recognized it. She nearly gasped as her memory did a fall-back to nights ago. Her first night spinning, the singing she had heard.

It had been Hyrum.

Goodness. The Bear was a secret singer. This was valuable information. If they both survived this murdering spree, then she could…

"The singing surprises you, doesn't it?"

She stopped short. So had Hyrum and his song. And he had turned around to glare at her.

Quickly she nodded. There was nothing else to be done. "I didn't think it was wise to lure out a murderer with song."

His expression did not change.

"How long have you known I was following you?"

"From the moment you left the library," he replied stiffly. "I'm not a fool, Miss Lake. I did not get this position because I only look tough, and I'm insulted if you honestly think I can't hear the clumsy footsteps of a little miller's daughter."

She smiled, albeit one of a sudden shyness and embarrassment she did not expect. Getting caught did not suit her. "Then be insulted, Hyrum."

He sighed and pushed the hair from his face. "Lake, you're supposed to in the library. Why aren't you in the library?"

"Because I think Hannah is perfectly capable of taking care of herself?"

That did not win a smile. "Lake, this is dangerous."

She walked to him. It was a strange feeling, the dim corridor with just the two of them. It was almost creepy, in a way, as only she moved while he just stood there. "Then why are you here?"

"Because I do dangerous things. It's my job."

She looked him up and down. Yes, she supposed he could look dangerous. "Hyrum, I don't think I can just sit in the library. Not with something going on. My brother is…" She stopped short. She hadn't even thought about Jay until the words slipped out.

Hyrum leaped on the slip. "Brother? You have a brother? Is he in the palace?"

No one was ever supposed to know about Jay. Never, ever. "I didn't say anything about a brother."

He laughed, a rather threatening laugh that drove of a fistful of spite into Lake's heart. "Yes, you did. Is he involved with your little game?"

"Why would you say something like that?"

He held his knife up to examine it. He was smiling again. He looked a little better when he smiled. "You seem awfully anxious to protect your non-existent brother. And he's in the palace. Or else you wouldn't be so worried about him."

She had half a mind to grab that stupid knife away from him. It made her sick to watch it. "I might have been in the middle of saying 'my brother is worried about me'."

"So you admit you have a brother."

Damn it.

"And you weren't in the middle of saying that crazy line."

"And you seem a little anxious to catch me in the act of something." The half a mind was gone. Lake reached up and clasped the knife.

But he was stronger than her. He easily pulled the knife away, grin fading with it. "Careful! I will not have you cut!"

She kicked him in the shin. "I hate you."

He turned away, hardly affected by the kick. "Lake, I need to have you somewhere safe."

"No, you don't! You just want me out here to confess everything, don't you?"

She had said too much. He turned back, eyes locked on hers. "Lake, please tell me. Tell me everything about it. I know already that you have a brother who is involved. Is your father involved, as well?"

She hated the way he stared. She stared back as long as she could. Then, without a warning even to herself, she felt her determination slip away. "Yes. Yes, they both know everything."

"Good. Then we're getting somewhere." He was smiling again, but it wasn't happy. It was one of determination, like a fox. "How did you make the gold?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me." Hyrum slid the knife back into his sheath.

"What about you?" she demanded. "Why do you need to know this?"

"I'm the king's guard. I need to protect the king, and I don't want him involved in something that will hurt him."

"You said something back in the library. About this man being after me. Saying he knew what my family was doing and he had come after me for that reason."

Hyrum nodded slowly. The fox-like smile was gone. "I lied."

Lied? If she didn't feel the way she did, she might have leapt for joy. "What are you talking about?" Her heart pounded so hard she felt dizzy. This was not right. This was not right. Scratch the leaping for joy.

He shook his head and sighed. "If I tell you the truth, than I shall expect the same from you. Maybe I didn't lie. I don't know why this man is in the palace. I don't know why he killed Lord Orson or Caroline. All I know is why I'm here, and that's because I'm after you."

Her heart spun out of control and tried to slice itself against her ribs. This was the part where she should be running. "What?" If he went so far as to take that knife out… certainly that would free her legs.

But the knife stayed put. "I told you a story in the library. My theory. That you had done whatever you do with the spinning too many times. You aren't as smart as you think you are, Lake, though I won't deny you are very, very clever. But if the same things happen to enough people, they become wise."

Lake needed to run. She had to get out of here before the Bear went wild on her with that knife. She had to warn her brother and her father.

Hyrum continued. "About a year ago, in the court of a prince, a miller and his daughter arrived with a story that this young woman could spin straw into gold. This prince accepted the daughter's offer to spin him gold. He even offered to marry her. However, the gold, the girl and her father vanished, along with much of the prince's treasure.

Lake found herself wondering which court this had been.

"Now admittedly this prince was probably a little greedy, but the girl and the miller did offer. And he was kind to them. He planned on rewarding them for their service. All in all, this prince was a good man. He had little power; he was a younger brother, so he would never be King. But he was given over which to govern while his older brother was groomed to become King. The prince did his best, not expecting too much glory. It wasn't fair that he should be robbed. So I, on behalf of the prince, have done all I can to track down the miller and his daughter. And here I am. I have found the girl who spins straw into gold."

Damn it, damn it, damn it. Lake felt like fainting, slumping to the floor in a heap. "If you knew this, why didn't you take me in? Capture me?"

"Because—" The retort began like any other, but didn't get very far.

Lake's jaw fell as fresh realization hit her.

Hyrum looked angry now, as if a personal secret had been revealed.

A laugh jumped in her throat. "Say it."

"Because I think I could fall in love with you." Then he turned with a furious jerk and marched down the hall.


	16. Plotting and Dizzy

_Sorry for the delay. Here's a rehash. A murderer is after a girl named Princess Rebecca. He supposedly murdererd Caroline, who is fortunately alive in Wheat Hill. Lake and Hyrum are searching for the murderer, and Hyrum revealed his crush on Lake. Andrea was upset to learn Jay's secret._

* * *

"So you're not a princess, then? At least take a healthy dose of flattery from it, girl—you're as pretty a young woman as any princess." William Miller took a swig of ale and winked at Caroline.

Caroline laughed. She was a fair judge of a man's character, and William Miller wasn't interested in chasing any young skirts. In fact, if she had it right, and of course she did, he was sweet on Rina Wood. "You're right. Nothing wrong with being mistaken as a princess. Only when it leads to abduction."

"Finished it." The healer Bethany set a glass of a steamy something before Caroline. "Rina's got the ale, but a few good herbs will put you as right as rain. It was sure something that you've been through, my dear."

Tevor Fisher muttered something under his breath and nodded. "Don't know what kind of man drags a woman away. Hardly decent behavior. Coward who can't get the touch of a woman on his own."

That was a thought Caroline didn't want to think about. It was safer here in the tavern, a roaring fire and a circle of men she was certain she could trust. She was laughing already, wasn't she? She had not quite expected that. "I'm sure that missing boy would never do such a thing."

Tevor gave a low chuckle. "Timber's a good lad, wherever the brat is. Up at the palace, for all I know. Sometimes I think he is as crazy as Robert. Now that's a fellow, Caroline, you need to meet. Absolute loon. Makes up crazy names for himself. Plots against vampires. Not the best thing for Timber to hear. That boy, I'm going to wring his neck when he gets back."

Something glassy exploded against the floor. Caroline and the men jumped around in their seats. Linda glared at them all behind the pool of glass and water she had apparently—and purposely—thrown at the floor. "I don't see you men out there looking for that little boy! Why, Papa, you oughta be ashamed of youself! My own husband is out there, after bringing in this girl, back out trying to keep Rina's heart from breaking! It's dark out, Timber's probably scared out of his wits, and here you are jeering on like it's all an elaborate joke! The girl is fine, Bethany and I are here, so shoo yourselves! Shoo!"

Tevor laughed again, but there was a solemnity about it, and he rose from his seat with a firmer face. "That's my daughter you are, Linda. I apologize."

"Just get your old ass out there." Linda reached for another pitcher. "You too, William."

William got up with fewer heroics than Tevor. "He's at the palace, I'm certain of it. That's where any boy with a lick of good spirit would be, considering the situation."

Linda's glare evoked demons. "Don't let me catch you speaking such in the presence of Rina. Now out! Find that boy! In fact, make your boy Jay help. Where is he?"'

"At the palace, visiting Lake. Why do you think I would suggest such a thing?"

"Out!"

Linda's glare did not soften until the tavern door was closed and the last echoes of the men's voices had faded away into the night. Then she turned to Caroline with a tired smile.

Caroline decided immediately that this was a girl she liked. No wonder that handsome man had married her. "You certainly know how to run a town."

Linda wiped her wet hands on her apron. "It's called being a mother, Caroline. Please, stay seated. I hope you didn't think my wrath was toward you."

"Caroline here is a woman like the rest of us," Bethany said. "Though it would do her well to take my advice and get a sip of some good tea.

Oh, yes. That steamy river-water. "Forgive me, I all but forgot with that screaming fit of Linda's." Caroline picked up the cup and took a sip. It nearly burnt her tongue, but it was surprisingly delicious. She could taste the herbs and spices in there. It tasted like how the palace kitchen smelled, and the fumes went right to her head. "Oh, wow. Bethany, this is what I needed."

Bethany nodded and waggled a finger at her. "It always pays to listen to me in this village. Where did you grow up, Caroline?"

Caroline shrugged. "I was born west of here, but I made my way to the palace after my parents died. Been there ever since."

Bethany's old face scrunched up in delight. "Oh, the palace. I never grow tired of hearing about the palace. Tell me, do you know the royal family well?"

She immediately forced away any thought of Prince Isaac. What on earth would these villagers think of a servant girl and a prince? "Well, they are friendlier and more down-to-earth than you might think."

"I believe it," said Linda. "But now isn't the time to talk about that. Caroline, that man brought you here, so he'll come back—what with his things still kept here, anyway. Bethany, have you been thinking?"

"I'm always thinking, and I'm just glad to have a couple of girls to assist an old woman. What does Adam keep about?"

"Just about everything." Linda wiped her hands again and all but dove behind the bar.

Well, this was certainly odd. "Exactly what are you doing?"

"Princess or no princess," said Linda, stepping up with a collection of knives. "That man is an awful lot of trouble, and I don't plan to let him get away with anything."

* * *

The palace was empty. As empty and as black as any old ruin from one of Caroline's stories. Andrea had never seen the palace in such a state. Most of the torches had burnt themselves out, and she found herself wishing for a talent like that Timber's. She kept her hand on the wall as she tentatively slid her feet along the floor, feeling incredibly stupid. She was a servant who was supposed to know these halls better than most, but then again she had never seen a lone palace. Someone was always about, cleaning, keeping watch, searching for something on the clandestine side of fun. 

This wasn't natural.

Good heavens, had she missed something? Had Jay taken her into the fairy woods for centuries on end, and had she escaped into a palace long dead? She cursed herself for thinking something so foolish. What reason would Jay have for trapping her in the fairy woods? And she expected herself to notice something a little fancier about enchanted woods. No, those were the king's woods and that was that.

Fairy tales, fairy tales. She was for once and for all sick to death of them.

Strange that she should fall in love with a boy with fairy blood. Speaking of Jay, where was he? Wasn't he supposed to chase after her in a wild passion of sorrow? Apologies galore, begging her forgiveness? Well, he hadn't bothered to show up yet.

The halls were awfully dark. The next living torch she saw would be hers. She couldn't be expected to find her way to the servants' quarters like this! How late was it? It couldn't be terribly so.

Then again, Andrea had never been the type to stay out late. Heaven forbid she tread upon the meeting place of Caroline and the Prince.

Andrea sighed. Oh, Caroline. Caroline and her mad ideas about love. Andrea had perfectly seen Caroline flee away from Prince Isaac's first bids of romance. Caroline, practically a whore, afraid of a few sweet smiles with the Prince.

Dang it, why had Jay failed to come after her? She wasn't angry with him, not anymore. Jay was a fairy, of some part of blood. Well, all right then. Was it so difficult thing to imagine? As for his sister Lake, why, it was rather sweet of him to give her credit for the gold. Very sweet, in fact.

Maybe she should run back out to him. No, not a possibility. Not a chance of finding her way back in this darkness.

Then they came, the sounds she had been waiting for. A cough, a few footsteps. Andrea's heart leapt. "Hello?" she called.

A pause, then "Andrea? Andrea, is that you?"

"Hannah!" A blot of dark shadow stepped into Andrea's vision. "Hannah, yes it's me, Andrea."

Arms were quickly thrown around her neck. "Andrea, where were you? You can't be out here!"

Andrea could better see the form of Hannah's face. "What do you mean? I was… everyone else wanders."

Hannah sighed. "Didn't you hear? Caroline was murdered!"

Caroline was murdered. The words echoed silently over Andrea's lips. They still didn't make any sense. "What? That can't be."

"Andrea, I'm so sorry. I knew how close the two of you were… and then no one knew where you were. Andrea, where were you?!"

The meaning then sunk in like a knife, and Andrea screamed against her will. "She's dead?!" Caroline. Her best friend. It couldn't be. That was impossible. Andrea had only been gone a few short hours… The tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she couldn't quite manage to cry them. "How?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

Hannah's reply came as a sharp intake of breath. "It… it doesn't matter. I… Andrea, there's something I really need to tell you first."

What could be more urgent than Caroline's murder? The words were still ringing in her ears!

But Hannah did not seem to care. Her hands dug into Andrea's shoulders, her eyes glinted wildly. "Andrea, my name isn't Hannah. I'm Princess Rebecca of the kingdom Larspeer. I'm sorry I didn't tell anyone. It's my fault Lord Orson was murdered, my fault Caroline was murdered, and…"

A gruff voice boomed from the corner.

"Run!" Hannah screamed. Her nails dug once more into Andrea's shoulders, then pushed her hard away.

"Coward, princess!" the other voice shouted.

Meanwhile Andrea ran, her legs feeling strangely clumsy as she did. Her breath burned in her throat. She didn't know why she was running, but she didn't want that man getting her.

Behind her Hannah, or Princess Rebeccah, screamed.

The tears that had held up for so long burst out as if from a storm cloud, blinding Andrea more than ever. Why was she running? What had Hannah done? What was going on?

Where was Jay?

She hit something, a body, and another scream welled in her throat.

"Quiet!" a voice hissed.

The shock was enough to recapture some senses. "Prince Isaac?"

"Quiet," the Prince repeated. His fingers gripped her arm and dragged her back into a quick walk. The world was shadowy, and she could only see the blurry forms of something on the wall. Something that the Prince was moving.

Whoever that man was had Hannah. Had someone called Princess Rebecca. Did Prince Isaac not care? And if Caroline was dead… Prince Isaac had to care! Did he even know? She had to tell him. It was imperative she tell him, but the words were not coming out.

"Shh," he commanded. "Be fast."

A tunnel. The dreary light could have been fodder for all imagination, but she was staring at some sort of tunnel. She hesitated, unsure as to what exactly the Prince expected her to do.

"Now!" he hissed, and pushed her hand into the tunnel. "Crawl."

She crawled. She apparently had no choice.

Something swung shut behind her, and she heard the Prince clambering after her. A tunnel. In the palace. What a strange thing. Did Caroline know about this?

Caroline. She began to cry.

Then the wall opened again. Someone else entered the tunnel.

* * *

"So," said Timber. 

Jay stared at the kid, oddly despising the sight of his face. Timber sat on a boulder, whittling a stick with a knife he had seemingly popped from nowhere. "So?"

"Aren't you going to tell me all of your secret?"

"I thought you were all concerned with the legend of this murderer."

Timber stopped whittling and made a face. "Yeah, well, apparently there's not a whole lot I can do. I'm just a little boy, remember? One you tried to run over with a cart."

"I said I was sorry about that." Jay stared up into the canopy of trees. The night was getting chiller by the minute. "Are you sure about this?"

A shrug. "No one ever believes me about anything."

"What do you mean?"

"I was telling everyone about the murderer. But did anyone listen? No!"

Jay laughed into his hands. He still didn't know what to think. After Andrea running off… he couldn't shake the feeling that he should go after her. But quite a lot of time had passed, and that would be rather weird to go apologize now. The timing was far too off.

Timber snapped his fingers, and the end of the slightly pointed stick caught flame. "How much fairy blood do you have, Jay?"

Fairy blood. Honestly, it was not something he thought about too often. "My mother was a fairy."

Timber nodded, as if it were hardly a major secret. "How come you didn't tell your sweetheart?"

"Do you tell everyone about yourself?"

"I like having secrets, Jay. Secrets are fun. They make me special."

How blissfully childlike. "I use my powers to rob people."

Timber immediately took more interest. "Really? Then you could rescue the princess."

Jay stared. That was hardly the comment he had expected. "Huh?"

Timber sighed with definite irritation. "I already told you. The murderer is here to find a princess. And if she ran away, she apparently does not want to go with him. So you have to rescue her."

"Timber, Lord Orson was murdered days ago. What do you think you are talking about?"

The boy hopped off the rock, burning stick held out like a torch. "I wouldn't have come all the way here if the murderer wasn't going to kill anyone else."

Jay immediately set off for the palace.

* * *

Among the various declarations of love that had been given to Lake over the years there had never existed one quite like what Hyrum had just said. Love was a favor to her from the royal and the noble, something for which she should be grateful. She was beautiful and desirable, and she had always worked that to her advantage. Possibilities had never been an option. Since when did anyone "think" he could fall in love? Everyone else just said it and that was that. 

Her feet were melded with the floor—no, that was her entire body, trying to process this particular declaration as Hyrum marched down the hall like she had just offended him. Or something.

But no. She had intended to follow him, and follow him she would. She took a deep breath and jerked herself away from the spell. This was no different. Men fell in love with her all the time. Hyrum may not be the prince, but certainly he was allowed to shower his affections on someone. Though he only had known her a few days.

The same time period everyone else required falling for her.

And Hyrum had only said "think". What was that supposed to mean?

"Wait!" she called. She hurried after him—awkwardly. "Hyrum, wait!"

He stopped at the end of the hall and turned to her with a face that was burning red. "What?" he snapped.

"What do you mean by think? You said you think you could fall in love with me?" She wasn't sure why she had to know, but she had to.

"I barely know you, Lake." The "miss" had been dropped once again. "I'm not such a fool as to think I could fall in love with anyone so quickly."

"But don't you think I'm pretty?" He was moving again, but she did her best to move her oddly heavy feet in something of a dance around him.

He didn't look at her. "I think you're beautiful. You're like a fairy."

She giggled. "I'm not a fairy."

"You have enough attitude for one. Look, we can't discuss this right now." He picked up his speed.

"But you're the one that brought it up!"

He growled deep in his throat, like an animal. "You asked, I merely responded. Besides, you made the Prince I swore to avenge fall in love with you. You would hardly care about…"

Ooh. He was too proud to say aloud his station. How obnoxiously stubborn. "Hyrum, I really am the daughter of a miller. Or a man who used to be a miller."

"Lake, please, I have something to do." Once again he sped up, focusing his gaze straight ahead and not on her.

She finally let herself fall back behind him a few steps. He wasn't even going to flirt back. This was new. All the princes, kings, and nobles had always tried to be as charming as possible. How useless the Bear was.

Hadn't she made guards fall in love with her before? Of course, none of them had ever said anything. But still, how original could this be?  
Her heart felt rather funny. Most of the time the kings and nobles had just wanted gold.

Though Hyrum was apparently perfectly aware of the gold. Maybe he wanted some gold, too.

Well, she had never found Hyrum ugly. He was… he was a very nice person, when he wasn't being such a Bear.

Yes, this was something new to consider.

She was beginning to feel dizzy. She only felt dizzy when she was sick.

Oh, no. It had finally happened. Damn it, Lake, she thought, don't do this to yourself. You've never let yourself get caught up in this before. It's only a game, a ruse.

She was acting like a little girl.

She picked up the trail of Hyrum. It was obvious why she felt that way. No one had ever stopped at thinking of loving her. She was only intrigued by this. And she could not deny that the guard was handsome.

Why not? They would be gone soon, anyway. Yes, she could let herself see where this went.

* * *

It was a room Andrea had only seen once or twice. The back of the palace, a room rarely used. Thick, dusty curtains hung like hillsides from the walls. She half-wondered if Prince Isaac knew of the room. 

"I'm expecting silence from you!" The man struck her across the face and threw her to the floor.

It was difficult to move fast in a tunnel. Prince Isaac had admitted that. Blood still poured from the gash in Prince Isaac's leg.

Had Caroline bled much? Andrea drew in a dusty mouthful of murky air. She didn't feel much of anything. This was all a nightmare, she had decided, a horrible nightmare that she would eventually wake from. Then everything would be all right and she wouldn't have to worry. Yes, a nightmare. Caroline's murder. Being chased. The murderer following them into the tunnel and stabbing Prince Isaac. This ugly room at the end of the passageway.

She hated that man, though. If there was one emotion she could remotely feel, it was pure hatred for the man above her. He flashed his knife once more in the Prince's face. Then the blade was gone, and a fist flew into Prince Isaac's face.

"I never get to do enough of that," he said. A gentleman's voice.

The Prince had been leaning against the wall, weak from loss of blood. More blood spurted from his nose, inky black in the darkness. "What have you done with Caroline?"

"The servant girl?" the man echoed. "A pretty thing she is. I almost mistook her for Princess Rebecca. It sounded as if she felt strongly for you."

"If she's dead," the Prince whispered. "I'll kill you."

"I believe, Your Highness, that I will be in charge of the killing in this situation. She's alive, though. I meant to question her about Princess Rebecca's whereabouts, but a girl in a library instead of protection with others was an intriguing premise."

Caroline was alive! Andrea felt vague relief. Maybe this wasn't so much of a bad dream. Just a… dramatic dream.

There was a weeping sound, an intensified version of what Andrea felt. It seemed to be coming from the Prince. "Who is Princess Rebecca?"

"She ran away from her home. She was to be the bride of my employer. He's not much nicer than I am, and was very upset when she failed to show up at her wedding day."

Hannah. Hannah had been posing as a servant.

"You have her already. What do you want with this girl here?"

The man laughed. It was a hideous sound. "I came here for the Princess, but I heard a few rumors going around. A girl who can spin straw into gold. I want her."

Don't say Lake's name, Andrea silently begged.

"I don't know what you're talking about," The Prince's voice was getting harsher by the second. "But if you are such a coward as to stoop to kidnapping an innocent girl—"

The sound of a hand against bone. "A coward does not have the mind I possess. Your Highness, if you so much as--" His voice cut off as he gave off a moan of pain.

Andrea tried to focus her eyes. The man was doubled over, gasping the side of his abdomen. Something small and sharp was clenched in Prince Isaac's fist.

The man stared at the Prince, who was breathing heavily. He moved his fist again. Andrea could almost imagine the blade glinting like fire. This room needed light.

But the man was good. His humongous blade, like a veritable sword, was lifted into the air…

"Andrea!"

She snapped from her daze. Jay! That was Jay's voice, coming from Jay… as he slipped into the room. Through the wall.

Her hero.

The man, this crazy murderer, only hesitated a moment before his knife found a different target. He whirled, black cloak like a cloud behind him.

The blade pierced through Jay's chest.


	17. And After That

Jay had never before been stabbed. At least not seriously; he had gone through the usual knife accidents prone to every growing boy, but no later attackers had ever managed a knife into his body. His first emotion was that of embarrassment. He, Bluejaybird Miller, caught with a reaction time slow enough for a knife. He stared at the man, face twisted with loose skin over an odd smile, the way the man's shoulder pressed against his neck for support.

It was a fascinating feeling, being stabbed. The pain came next. It wasn't the intensity he would have imagined, and he felt it at a keen distance. The knife had a shape to it, a mass that made itself known like a bird in the hollow of a tree. It was a sharp pain, though, and certainly worth being called pain.

He heard Andrea's scream. That hurt worse than the knife. The scream of a woman always had that sort of impact. Women… why were they so emotional? Then again, if he had seen her with a knife in her heart, he would sure as heaven and hell be screaming, too.

A blade in the center of a body did feel weird.

Jay staggered backwards as if he had been pushed rather than stabbed. Immediately the knife came loose. No, loose was not the word to describe it. The blade was simply gone from his body, though the knife remained in the man's hand.

"Jay!" It was Andrea's voice, loud as thunder as just as wild.

His hands flew to his chest to be drenched in burning hot blood. His knees cracked against the floor.

It wasn't a river, though. Jay had never seen a stabbing before, but he had heard plenty a tale. It was supposed to be a ruby red fountain, gushing blood over the body.

Heal, he thought. A command to himself. Heal.

The blade hadn't touched his heart, anyway. Just like walking through walls. It was a fairly interesting thing to realize. It would make an awesome story.

"He'll be dead soon," the man said. The conviction wasn't very strong.

Jay gasped for breath and stared at the man. The famous murderer of Timber's imagination. Hah. Jay was going to have to apologize for this one. A big apology was in the running.

The man snarled low, like a dog. He kept the knife up, still dripping with blood, his other arm pressed tight against his abdomen.

Prince Isaac rose to stab again.

The man whirled with his knife-wielding arm.

Stupid, stupid royalty boy.

The Prince fell hard against the floor.

At the same time the door crashed down in a storm of splintered wood. Jay squeezed his eyes shut for only an instant. It was that guard. Hyrum, red in the face ahd heaving with fatigue. Busting down a door would do that to a person, though the drama of doing such was much more interesting than unlocking it.

The man in black wasn't expecting it, and Jay had carried in his own knife. He reached out and slashed hard across the stiff muscle of the leg. It was almost like chopping wood.

He could feel the wound over his heart healing as he did so, the sensation mixing with the sound of a new scream. His sister's.

He grinned. She was going to kill him for this. "Lake?"

He looked up into the shadows of her terrified face as she grabbed his shoulders. "Jay! What the hell happened here?"

The man in black was on the floor now, blood gushing in a pool around him. Jay had struck good. He hoped Andrea had noticed.

"Jay!" Lake repeated. " Jay, you idiot, what happened?"

There wasn't much else to say. Damn, but it hurt to have a wound heal right over you. "I think I was just stabbed, Lake."

She pressed her lips against his cheek. "Prince Isaac…"

He had no time to respond. The man grunted in pain. "Your Highness." The words were hardly above a whisper. "What a surprise."

Hyrum carried a torch with him. It lit the room like too much sunlight and showed the still form of Prince Isaac. There was no blood… Jay could not be sure of breathing. Either way, the man's statement went unheard.

Except the man was not looking at the Prince.

His eyes, shining with pain, were focused squarely upon Hyrum. He laughed, a weak little snicker, and licked his lips. He wasn't deathly injured, but apparently the wound in his side was getting to him. "I recognize you. You don't look like yourself. Of course, you were never as silly looking as your younger brother."

"Who are you?" Hyrum demanded.

"A servant of nobility, hardly noticeable in the courts, but I know you. Prince Hyrum of Corlblen, I wager. Heir to the throne. I had heard rumor you were on some sort of quest."

* * *

Yeah, I couldn't do it. I just couldn't kill off Jay. Probably because he's based off my twin brother and that was disturbing to me to kill my own brother. Isaac, though, I'm not quite as attached to him. 

The Hyrum thing... I was actually planning on introducing it a different way, but I felt it was a little too convenient, and I figured the murderer would have the social connections to recognize random royalty.


	18. More Truth

Well, if that weren't the most interesting thing Lake had heard all day. One of the most interesting things, anyway. The time past of this evening had hardly been away from her interest. And to burst into this room only to find Jay being stabbed. She kept her arm around his back, hugging his shoulder into her chest as if that would keep him from another stabbing. An idiot he was. Lake had always known her brother was an idiot, but it was altogether new to find him in this sort of danger and she absolutely hated him for it. Jay had never been threatened in such a fashion. Imprisoned, yes. A good punch in the face was almost a regular thing. But never before had anyone dared stab her older brother!

She breathed in deeply, noisily, with a gasp, hoping the musty air of the room would do something to slow the confusion spinning round her head. In the world of the Millers it was necessary to rely from time to time on dumb luck and a little intuition and it had once again paid itself out. She and Hyrum had heard the confusion rooms away.

Hyrum. What had this freak just called him?

If they had not heard anything, she might not have been around to see blood ooze from her brother's chest. She might not have been as angry as she was now.

Prince Isaac had been attacked as well. That much was evident. She hugged Jay tighter, wondering against every other emotion dancing through her if she should go over to her first palace friend. The jerk that had made her think he could love her. She hadn't wanted him to die. Then why had she thought such before? Anger, of course; she was entitled to anger from time to time, for what else in the name of heaven and hell was she feeling now? And she was a good person. Timber considered her an angel. Angels didn't just let people die, did they? No, it was her duty to run to the Prince's side, for Jay was an idiot and could certainly take care of himself if he were stupid enough to get himself stabbed. No, that thought made absolutely no sense whatsoever!

But the truth was that the light was dim and unsteady, she didn't have the energy to stand, and the sudden attention on Hyrum was indeed interesting. With one hand she pressed against the slowing blood on Jay's chest—it was warm and sticky and did not need her sight. She used that for Hyrum and the man. Suddenly she did not care if the Prince lived or died as long as she could hear the rest of this conversation. "What is he talking about, Hyrum?"

"Nothing." Hyrum muttered quickly. He pushed easily past the man and stomped toward the Prince. Light flowed over the dusty walls. It was like being inside a lamp.

The man laughed weakly. His face grew paler by the second as blood continued to drip from his leg. Lake could actually hear the sound. "Still as tactless as ever, Your Highness?" That glorious mess of blood and flesh that had once been a leg. Her brother had caused that. Her wonderful, wonderful brother! And yet what sort of monster could laugh through it? Clearly he had to be lying.

"He's hardly a prince, you bastard," she hissed. She hated this man. He had stabbed Jay and Prince Isaac. A bastard was hardly the right name to call him. "He's a lowly guard."

Another laugh. His hand slapped, splashing, into the pool of blood. Perhaps the wound was fatal. Well, angel or not, she was certainly not going to help him. "To think I have a princess and the heir to a throne at my disposal."

"Strange words for a bleeding man," she replied.

"You are a foolish girl. Ask your friend yourself. Speak to him and if he is truthful as he should be he will let you know everything." A cough. "An odd sort of quest for a man such as him."

"Silence," Hyrum said. He was bent over the still form of Prince Isaac. Other than that Lake could not see what he was doing.

"I don't think he is going to be quiet," Jay said. He gently pushed Lake away, though she resisted at first. "I'm fine, Lake. A lot better than you would be."

"You were stabbed!" she snapped.

"And I was cut through my leg." The man spoke simply, as if he were observing something in nature. Weakly he tore at his cloak, and surprisingly managed to snatch away a ragged bit of cloth with which to staunch his bleeding. But before he could do anything the rag was yanked away by quick fingers. Andrea's.

"Here," she said, kneeling down beside Lake. How cute. She thought she had come to help.

"He really is all right," Lake insisted, but she moved aside so Andrea could press herself over Jay. "The bleeding has finally stopped, I think."

She shook her head fervently, dark hair tangling itself over her face like a veil. "No, no! I saw the knife and…" Her fingers drifted over the now-scarred skin. "You're not hurt."

Jay nodded. "I told you. Or rather Timber told you… I didn't mean to scare you…"

And, with Lake sitting at a much too-awkward close proximity, Andrea kissed Jay with more ferocity than Lake usually used for men.

For crying out loud, they had only come for gold. Not so some palace tramp could do the beginning of what a thousand different girls had wanted to do to her brother.

Yet she found herself smiling just the same. It was good for Jay to suffer in such ways. It was good for everyone. She herself hadn't been…

Hyrum.

She leapt to her feet, dizziness once again overtaking her. She would kill for a well-lit room once again. Her hands flew around her seeking balance and then she was off, stepping over the man who was now unconscious, pausing only to give his head a good kick for luck. Then she skipped over the floor, knocking dust into billowing clouds around her that threatened her throat. It was filthy, this room. To think she had found it enchanting, in retrospective, when Isaac had taken her!

The room where Isaac had taken her. She had thought herself so special then, even when she had heard of his other companion of this room. The scandals that must have occurred in such a station! With someone such as Caroline, no less. What right did a servant have to frequent dark corners with the likes of a prince?

Isaac and Hyrum seemed miles away. Hyrum had placed the torch in a sconce but the flames did nothing to steady themselves. It was like a dream, this room. Why had no one bothered to clean it out?

His Royal Highness Prince Isaac's dusty little secret. Where the hell was Caroline? She should be sharing in this moment, it being her lover who was possibly lyig dead in the arms of a guard. A prince?

That awful man had called Hyrum a prince. What could he possibly mean? How could Hyrum be a prince?

Lake had only put herself out for the likes of royalty and nobility. She was the type to frequent dark corners with the likes of princes. Why, to try out Hyrum as something else would be a change, which is precisely why he could not be a prince.

If he believed he could fall in love with her, why could he not find the time to tell her such things? What a mistake to find him attractive! A dirty rotten liar who knew all of her secrets and…

The miles and miles of dust and shadows passed behind her like wind and she found herself standing above Hyrum and Isaac.

His shirt was off—Hyrum's. His shirt was off and twisted into a rag pressed just beneath Isaac's neck. Isaac was not conscious, but his lips quivered ever so slightly with breath. Hyrum pressed the shirt down with one arm, the other pressed just as hard against the floor for balance. He was bigger than Lake had imagined, and she liked it. Many of the princes and kings she had seen were slender and weak. Which was another reason Hyrum could not be a prince.

Isaac was a prince. And he was detained. Though clearly he was not going propose to her, she might as well seek out that treasury. She could take Jay, he could take Andrea, and they would leave for the next town.

If only this damn curiosity would let her be! It had to be curiosity.

Almost entrance, she knelt down next to Hyrum. All Isaac had done was love Caroline—and clearly something else that demanded he be cut like this, but that was beside the point in Lake's mind. She could not be angry with him this time. "How is he?"

The look Hyrum shot her was hardly sympathetic. "How the hell do you think he is? I am not paid enough to deal with this kind of excitement."

It had been an exciting evening, at least this portion. "I'm just asking—"

"He'll live, that's all you need to know." He sighed deeply. "Don't worry. It's not your job. I'm sure King Cherdith will arrange your wedding when he has healed. As for your brother," he gave another sigh and looked back. "How is he?"

Jay's mother had thankfully been a fairy. "He's fine."

"He was stabbed."

"Well, the knife missed."

"Damn it, Lake, don't lie to me. I just want to know what is going on with you and your family and a little honestly would be greatly appreciated." He pushed the bloodied shirt harder into Isaac's chest. "It's slowing. Better get him to someone who knows what he is doing."

"What about—"

"The happy little assassin?" Hyrum snorted. "Leave him." He scooped Isaac up and headed for the door. "Let's go."

What strange two words. For a moment Lake was not sure she had heard right. She was supposed to chase Hyrum against his will. "What about what he said?"

"Which thing that he said?"

Lake resisted the urge to kick him. "Don't play dumb with me!"

Andrea and Jay were already on their feet, Andrea demanding to know Isaac's condition. Now she was the angel. Timber had to meet her. All Hyrum did was repeat his same gruff phrase so Andrea could squeal in delight and happiness. What an idiot.

And yet her brother had evidently managed to be hooked by her. The things their father would say! But that was not what Lake wanted to think about. "Hyrum, answer my question and you know exactly which question I mean!"

"Help me carry him." The words were a command, and Jay obediently obeyed Hyrum. With Isaac snared between them, the two men stepped over the splintery mess of the door.

"Hyrum!" Lake repeated loudly as she followed, Andrea at her heals. "Hyrum!"

"Lake, it's nothing," he finally replied. "If you want the Prince to live, you will wait."

Lake did not want to wait. "Hyrum, please!"

It did not seem as fate would ever let her hear. Her complaints were soon drowned in the smattering of people that had finally drifted from their lockdown in search of the Prince whom had so gallantly protected them. There was Jay and Hyrum, there were people, there were cries of surprise and worry. Oh no! The second murder of the night could not be their beloved Prince! Time crushed upon itself as the hallways sped by and more people arrived. Chaos burst around like wildfire and somehow through it the court doctor was summoned. Somewhere during that time, probably before she even realized it, Lake realized she had absolutely no idea what had become of Hyrum.

Fortunately that only lasted a few minutes—at least by her reckoning of the new timing.

He snuck off in the commotion, back towards the room.

She smiled. He thought he would not be seen. Well, no one would miss her. She was only the girl who spun the straw into gold.

She caught him as he rounded a corner. "Hyrum!"

He froze. "Miss Lake." His voice was formal, stiff, hardly gruff. She did not like it.

She caught up to him. "I want my question answered."

The muscles in his shoulders tightened, and he turned to face her. "I'm going up after that man. It's my responsibility. He has wounded His Royal Highness."

"What about you?"

He shook his head, turned back, and continued. It was all so familiar; not that long ago they had been walking these same halls. "Don't worry about that."

"I demand to know why he said that."

His speed increased. "I don't recall."

Idiot. Jerk. "He called you Prince Hyrum."

"It means nothing. I have work to do. I have to make sure that man is dead."

"Last time I saw him he had blood pouring out of his leg," Lake replied. "I'm very sure he hasn't gotten away."

He gave a sharp laugh. "Don't be so sure. He's very untrustworthy."

"Are you saying he made up what he had said?"

Hyrum shook his head again.

She would know the truth and he would tell her. "Clearly you lied when you said you had no intention of falling in love with me." She honestly had no belief that such a line would actually work.

But he stopped, just before a landscape of a lake. It was surrounded by green woods. Lake suddenly hoped it was the one for which she had been named. Her eyes only rested on it a short while before staring up at Hyrum. It was a surprise. He was very handsome.

He spoke quietly, slowly. "Do you remember that story I told you earlier? About the prince you robbed? The reason I am here?"

She furrowed her brow, not quite understanding. But if Hyrum were a prince… "You don't look familiar."

"Of course not. We met for the first time a few days ago. That was true.

"Then why are you talking about—?"

He sighed. "Think, Lake. Think of the whole story. The assassin spoke true. I don't recognize him, but apparently he was in my father's court at sometime. I am Prince Hyrum of Corlblen. I'm the eldest son and heir to the throne. I told you the prince had an older brother, and he is me. My brother took up residence in a corner of our kingdom because he is not going to inherit the throne unless I die first, heirless. And that is where you apparently met him and robbed him. My father is still alive, and I was bored."

Royalty had always been strange. She grinned. "So you came out here?"

"It's family tradition that we complete a quest before taking the throne."

"And you picked pretending to be a guard as yours?"

He nodded. "Why not?"

She moved in closer to him. A prince in disguise. She had yet to flaunt herself for one of those. Maybe he was worth the risk. "So what are you going to do now that you have caught me? Lock me in the dungeons?"

"I'm not going to lock you away," he said irritably.

"My brother helped." She locked her eyes with his. He was extremely handsome.

She wasn't sure who moved in first for the kiss.

* * *

Peter found the girl in a corner in one of the old halls. Her hands and feet were bound, and there was a large bump on her head.

Another casualty of the night, he realized. After the attack on the Prince one upon a servant girl would mean nothing, but Peter could not bear to see a girl so young in pain. It was Hannah, a recent employee. Sweet, silent. He gathered her in his arms.

She moaned, and her eyes fluttered open. "Where am I?"

"The palace," he said. Hopefully she had not lost her memory.

"Still?" She seemed fully awake now, and even struggled from his hold.

An odd question. "Where else did you imagine yourself?"

She shook her head and almost tumbled to the floor—Peter was sure to set her down gently. "I'm all right, Peter. I promise I am. But I need… Peter, will you take me outside?"

"It's pitch black out there."

She took a deep breath. She seemed desperate. "I need to go outside."

"But Prince Isaac was just attacked."

She flinched at that, which did not surprise Peter. It was terrifying to see everyone's favorite Prince in the state he was in. "Is he alive?"

"Yes. The man who attacked him is unconscious."

"I still need to go." Her voice was on the rise now, pleading and demanding at the same time.

Peter had never been good with the demands of women. Somewhat against his better judgment, he accompanied her to the gate.

He just knew he was going to regret it.


	19. Rebeccah's Escape

The woods smelled clean. Rebeccah had never much cared for the ways dark trees would smell; admittedly, she had never thought much about it to begin with. Trees were trees and that was that. But in the darkness still pricking its way toward dawn they held a certain scent. She breathed it in. Freedom. She picked her way through the branches with little difficulty as the trail was clear enough. She was probably leaving footprints, but there were so many along the trail that she doubted a few more would matter. If a pursuer found her, he found her, and that would be the end of her little journey.

Hopefully it would not end soon.

She stopped once, when she felt safe, to brush out the tangles in her hair. Perhaps it was the princess still in her, but she could not bear to have messy hair. A princess. Hah. A princess who posed as a maid and caused trouble wherever she went. Well, it was nice to know that Prince Isaac was not dead. She would have hated to be responsible for the deaths of any more people.

But if that was how it was to be, that was how it was to be.

She would need a new image now. She couldn't be a maid every time.

Perhaps she would make herself a fur coat and go work in kitchens somewhere.

Rebeccah had to admit, this life was certainly a lot more entertaining than being a princess.

* * *

It was dawn when Timber Wood saw fit to shuffle into his mother's tavern, hair mussed and body covered in more scratches than Rina had ever seen him. Fortunately he had been singing some little song, or the boy would have been dead by the time he had neared the barn.

It was almost disappointing it had to be Timber, Caroline thought. He had been looking forward to stabbing that bastard.

"Timber!" Rina screamed as she yanked her son into her chest in a suffocating squeeze. "Where on earth have you been?"

Timber merely rolled his eyes. "I told you. I was chasing the murderer. Where did you think I was?"

Linda sighed and carefully dropped down from the rafters—she had been crouched up there a good hour. "Timber, you scared us half to death! We have a guest here and we were all waiting with our hearts about to burst…"

"So this is the missing kid?" Caroline dropped down besides Linda. Rafters sure were cramping. "We wait all this time with this crazy idea of yours—no offense, Linda—for this boy?" Was it so necessary they sounded all so disappointed?

"He's home now and that's all that matters," Rina muttered. She was rubbing sandpaper-like at Timber's face. "Someone get me a wet cloth, this child is filthy."

Linda gave another sigh and went to fetch the cloth.

She sounded extremely disappointed. This town was starving for something interesting, by the appearances of everything. The ladies in here with knives and every available, interested young man stashed away in whatever barn or tree would hold him, all in anticipation of the murderer. And Linda had been so gung-ho about it.

Well, heck, it was pretty darn disappointing, and she had been the one to deal with the whole thing. She had been the one tied up out in that barn, frightened half to death! She should be the most disappointed of the bunch! "I'm glad your son is all right, Rina." At least that was the single happy ending here.

Rina planted a kiss on Timber's head. "Thank-you, Miss Caroline. Though I'm sure you must be terrified if that man is still out there."

It hit her. Oh, heavens. Timber's appearance didn't change a thing.

"Timber!" Bethany snapped. "Did you even find your murderer?"

The boy sighed with even more disgust than Linda. "I think he went into the palace. Jay went after him."

Everyone else was in the palace. Her home. "He's in the palace?" Caroline immediately felt sick. First he tied her up in a barn and now he had to enter her home. Isaac's home.

"And Jay went after him?"

Like she would trust that sweetheart of Andrea's. Oh, hell, Andrea!

"The murderer is going after his princess and Jay is going after the murderer," Timber explained as his mother attacked his face with the wet cloth. "It's not a difficult concept."

Andrea looked as much like a princess as anyone. "There really is a murderer, Timber!" It felt odd addressing a boy she didn't know, but Caroline wasn't at all sure else she was supposed to do in this situation.

"I know that, lady!"

"Timber, don't be rude," Rina hissed.

Caroline felt absolutely ridiculous. Here she was, in strangers' home, rescued only by their kindness, screaming at the top of her lungs at a child. Perhaps she had been through far too much that night. And clearly everyone else was seeing that as well. The looks were obvious; these people weren't shy. It was a strange feeling knowing that one was being ridiculous and acting so anyway, at the exact same time. "Has no one caught this man yet?"

"Jay went after him," Timber repeated. "And I'm not worried about Jay, because Jay has fairy blood."

Every gaze in the room went right back to Timber.

"What?" demanded Rina.

"Fairy blood." He said it very matter-of-factly. "I thought I would keep his secret but then I changed my mind. It's no big deal."

"And just what would the Millers be doing running around these parts with a fairy blooded boy?" mused Bethany from her position behind a table. "Can't even do the healing I'm capable of?"

Timber shrugged.

"He's tired," Rina said. "Go to bed."

Timber shook his head, spare droplets of water flying everywhere. "No. Not until I know that the murderer has been caught. By Jay."

Caroline stomped her foot into the ground. "If he's after a princess he is going to think it's Andrea!"

"But Jay is in love with Andrea!" Timber protested.

It was the one thing to send the ridicule away. "You saw this?" She didn't think it appropriate to ask how much he saw.

Timber nodded. "They're in love."

"Who's Andrea?" Bethany asked.

"His soul mate!" Caroline didn't mean to squeal so much. Too much emotion and excitement in one night. She clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, this is wonderful!"

"And just five seconds ago you looked ready to kill someone," said Rina dryly.

"Oh, and I still am." She decided that would have to be truth enough. Andrea might love Jay, and he was certainly a strong enough boy, with or without this fairy blood, whatever it was, but she was the protector of Andrea and she couldn't trust any man to save her. Unless there was another princess somewhere. Yes, that would have to be a possible hope. "Linda, you gave us all knives and told us to jump the next person that walks through that door since you clearly doubt that your husband and his friends have the ability to stop a murderer so…"

The door swung open.

It was a complete and utter mess. The long-awaited appearance of the murderer and not a soul was still holding a knife. Bethany swore loudly and dropped to the floor where she found a rather blunt knife. That was the only incident Caroline actually saw, though she could hear the screams of everyone else. Once again, absolutely ridiculous. She herself could only stand frozen in place, praying and hoping Andrea or anyone else at the palace would see her in such an embarrassing state.

Only Linda had the presence of mind to grab a knife and run straight at the door.

Or should it be called presence of mind? They were merely a bunch of women ready to attack whomever happened to walk inside. Did it occur to no one that it could be anyone? Adam, William, Tevor, and the rest of them were outside as well.

This could only end badly.

Fortunately, it did not end badly. Though it almost did. The guard Hyrum screamed like she had never heard him scream before (and she had not) and swung his hand against the knife, sending it spinning with perfect pinning position into the wall.

Timber actually applauded.

"You're not a murderer!" Linda said breathlessly.

Caroline's muscles moved once more. "Hyrum!" she screamed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Apparently about to die," he muttered. He looked terribly flustered, and Hyrum never looked flustered. He was panting something horrible, hand over his heart. "Hell, Caroline, is this where you have been this whole time?"

She nodded. This was awkward. "I… I was kidnapped.."

"We know that part."

"And I was brought here. By a murderer." Oh, dear, he probably was going to think Andrea was a princess. "Hyrum, you have to find him!"

Hyrum never smiled. But he seemed about to be thinking of it right then. He pulled out a knife, and Rina screamed plenty this time. The knife was caked with blood. "Don't worry, he's dead, courtesy of Jay Miller."

"Toldja," Timber said.

It wasn't quite the released Caroline had expected. None of the excitement had been here.

"We're sorry, sir, for the shock," said Rina.

"You had better be," Hyrum muttered. "Everyone out there let me pass, those men."

"Is anyone hurt?" Caroline demanded.

"Your friend was about to hurt me."

Linda blushed. "I'm sorry about that."

Now that would have been interesting, this little Linda woman stabbing a guard. Caroline suppressed a giggle. "No, back at the palace, I mean."

"Prince Isaac was—"

She didn't allow him to finish. She just screamed and demanded her take her back.

Apparently that was the reason he had come all the way to Wheat Hill.

* * *

It was a rather odd thing to watch, Andrea decided. Caroline, trembling as she carried the tray, walking into the room where Prince Isaac lay, once again the servant and this being the only way she could see him. Andrea had never thought too much about the particulars of Caroline and the Prince's romance, but she certainly hoped that Prince Isaac would eventually cast a favor and marry the girl. Caroline deserved it.

But at least it caused a distraction. If anyone had been paying any attention to her at all, Andrea didn't think she could be anyone near Jay. But she was and it was a lovely feeling.

Jay certainly wasn't as sweet as she had thought from him. She snuggled up against his shoulder. A fairy-blooded thief. Hardly a safe bet. But he was so nice and he smelled so good. "So you came here to rob the royal family?"

They were only down the hallway from the fuss over Prince Isaac, but she doubted anyone would bother listening. If they did, well, it would be her fault and the guards would just have to toss her into the dungeons.

"Pretty much," Jay replied before kissing her on the cheek.

"Why?"

"Lots of reasons, but lately it's become mainly for the fun of it."

"Fun." She had already been through too much fun that night. "When are you leaving?"

The smiled faded from his face. "Soon, I think. We've been here much too long."

"No, you haven't. You've only been here a few days." She knew she should probably be crying or demonstrating some other dramatic sense of passion, but it just wasn't happening. Maybe love was making her a little bit wild. "When you leave, can I come?"

Jay's smile returned.

* * *

The treasure room was beautiful. Not the best Lake had seen by any means, but certainly respectable when it came to doing its job of housing money and jewels. Lake picked up a strand of pearls to study them. Lovely, lovely. She felt giddy just touching these things. True, they had plenty in the cave, but each fresh batch was a delight all its own. And there were rubies. She had always loved rubies.

"I know it's probably not the right time to be speaking of such matters," King Cherdith said from the doorway, where he stood with two new guards whom Lake had nicknamed Duck and Fish. "But, Miss Miller, you are a lovely and intelligent woman with a great skill."

She blushed and curtsied—always the sweet country maiden. "It's no great skill, Your Highness."

"Certainly it is." He smiled so kindly. Lake suddenly found herself wishing he would smile the same way at the servant Caroline. "Miss Miller, my son Prince Isaac is awfully fond of you as well."

Jerk, she thought. Lying jerk. Though he had been a perfectly wonderful friend. She kept her smile glowing. "I'm just not sure if I deserve to be a princess."

"And why not?"

Perhaps it had been too general of a response. It was just that Prince Isaac was not the one of whom she was thinking.

"But you'll have all these beautiful things if you marry my son!" King Cherdith said with surprise. The Fish nodded fervently.

She was going to have all these beautiful things anyway. She curtsied again. "With all due respect, Your Highness, I'm happy enough. I'm sure the Prince has someone else in mind for his princess."

King Cherdith just stared.

Hopefully Prince Isaac would get around to making an honest woman of Caroline. Either way, they seemed happy enough.

Eventually the stare of surprise transformed itself into a smile. "Well, then. At least choose a few things for yourself, my dear. You deserve it after all we have put you through."

"Might I have some privacy?" she begged. "I feel so silly and awkward if a great king is there to mock me for choosing the improper trinket."

He laughed at that. He was a very nice king, as far as kings went. "You are much too humble, my dear. But yes, we shall leave you alone for a few moments."

He and the Fish and the Duck left.

And Jay appeared through the wall. "You didn't accept the marriage offer?"

Lake made a face and tried to hit him. "Marry a half-dead prince? No thanks, I'll leave that to Caroline. Let's get to work."

"Is Papa outside?"

"Wagon's ready. He's tricked Rina Wood into helping with that."

Oh, Rina Wood! Lake laughed. "Doesn't he prefer to stay in Wheat Hill with her? Or bring her along?"

"Just because Andrea is coming…" Jay heaved a chest over his shoulder. "I'm sure he will be returning soon. Though with that crazy Old Robert going about calling himself Rumplestiltskin now I don't know why anyone would want to stay there. Aren't you going to stay here?"

Lake froze midway of snatching jewels. "And why would say that?"

"The guard. The one who turned out to be a prince."

Hyrum. Lake's heart twisted, and she knew she was blushing. As long as Jay didn't make a stupid comment about that. "He's…"

"He's very rich."

"And we're con-artists." She shoved more jewels into her sleeves.

He looked furious. She could feel that much from him. "Are you even going to say goodbye?"

"Of course I am."

"You don't even have a reason. We all saw you."

"We're con-artists," she repeated. Honestly, she didn't understand what all the fuss was about. So she had her present fun with Hyrum. Now she had her jewels and her family was on their way out of the kingdom. Hyrum was very handsome, admittedly, and maybe things had gotten a little flirtatious, but now it was daytime and she could think more steadily. Hyrum had made this a very nice experience, this particular lie.

Maybe she would just have to take that into consideration.


	20. Epilogue

The announcement came on fine parchment, thin and so shiny no one could imagine how anyone could properly write on it. But it was a wedding announcement, and plenty elegant to impress the kingdom of Corlblen, who hadn't seen much of a wedding in years. The happy couple was not of a kingdom with which Corlblen was familiar in any diplomatic sense, but that did not matter; a wedding was a wedding and they were near enough to be considered.

The King smiled as he read the invitation. He didn't smile very often, and to be perfectly honest this was not much of a smile. People liked to joke that he merely was not happy with the old King retiring as he had done, though this particular King had never been much for a humorous personality.

There was a story behind this wedding: Prince Isaac, heir to the throne, had finally announced his engagement. Not to a princess or a lady of the court, but to a common maid of the palace. Shocking and yet dreamily romantic. Rumor had it that she had nursed him back to health after some incident with a palace infiltrator.

About time, the King thought. He had spent some time in that palace during the time of his quest; he had seen how things were. That had been months ago, when he had left that place.

He wondered if he could possibly attend the wedding of Prince Isaac and soon-to-be Princess Caroline. Would that not be on the awkward side of things?  
Maybe he would just have to send a royal wedding gift. He did not like to think of himself as a sensitive man, but he wasn't happy with everything that had happened at the palace of Prince Isaac.

So he sent a gift, signed rather anonymously, simply the Royal Family of Corlblen.

Around this time the rumors began. They came from the people, in the beginning just peasant chatter. Soon it reached the King. Rumors of a miller's daughter, a lovely young woman who could spin straw into gold.

Advisors and other members of the court were a little surprised at the King's reaction. He knew that. Well, they would have to deal with it. He would most certainly invite this girl to the palace.

There couldn't be two girls working the same ruse.

The summon was sent out.

He wondered what she would be like this time.

A tough girl, spirited but naïve, a proper help to her father, likely to handle more work than spinning. At least on the outside.

She smiled at him, and not the kind of smile he would have expected from a strong farm-girl stranger. But no one else seemed to notice. He smiled back, one of those rare smiles. Let the advisors say what they would.

He had been waiting a long time to be robbed.

THE END


End file.
